Shadows of Lady Luck
by AbiwonKenabi
Summary: It was the con of a lifetime. The Grand Gala would have the richest Noxians, how could Twisted Fate and Graves pass this up? But along the way, they seem to be entangled in something much darker...
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The old man knew his time was ticking. It was only a matter of time before his enemies finally caught up to him. It had been years—decades—he had eluded them, but as he coughed up blood in his frozen shack, he felt a vague feeling of dread sink and settle into his stomach. He tossed his filthy rag into the once roaring fire place; it was now filled with frosted logs, long since doused to prevent smoke from revealing the location of his Freljord cottage. Not many were out here; even the Winter's Claw natives were few and far between.

The man slumped in his chair, trying to force himself to sleep. His limbs couldn't help but tremble from cold and exhaustion. "Anyone could sneak up on me now," he wheezed.

"Even little ole me?" a voice purred. A woman had materialized from the shadows, her yellow eyes providing the brightest source of light. The old man stared in a terrified state, as frozen as the room around him. The woman terrified him: her eyes seemed to drink up his fear, her unnatural blue skin completely void of goose bumps despite her lack of appropriate clothing, her fingers curled like claws; she reminded the old man of the hungry wild cats he used to hunt in the wilds of Demacia.

"I expect you know why I'm here?" the woman said, "My employers certainly hope so. They paid quite a price for such a feeble old geezer."

The man could only gape silently, until finally words formed in his mouth, "Finish it."

The woman lunged forward, and within seconds the old man toppled from his chair into a pool of his own blood. He only had a moment to wheeze his final expression of fear. The woman let a satisfied laugh escape her purple lips. She breathed in the iron smell of his blood and at last goose bumps appeared on her skin.

Suddenly she breathed in a different smell. She twisted around, now alert for the foreign smell. Her glowing eyes only found the rickety walls and the dark fire place. She turned to look at the body again; perfectly still, eyes still wide in fear. This made her smirk.

"Still enjoying the job, eh darling?" a voice came from behind her. She spun around to see a figure donned in a hat and long-tailed coat emerging from the fire place. He dusted off the soot as he stood upright.

"Twisted Fate," she said with a knowing smirk.

"Evelynn," he nodded, his golden eyes peering at her from under his hat.

"So, you finally tracked me down? All the way out here?"

He pulled a card from within his jacket, flipping it in his fingers. "I had a good game of Texas Hold 'Em. Very _enlightening_."

Evelynn crossed her arms, tapping her heel, her stare as cold as the room around them. "What are you here for?"

Fate seemed unfazed. "You know why I'm here, Eve." His eyes seemed to bore right into her.

Evelynn strolled towards the door. "You know my answer, TF. N-O."

"I figured you'd say that," Twisted Fate smirked and started to follow, "but unfortunately you can't get rid of me that easy."

She glared. "Watch me." And with that, Evelynn opened the door and faded into the blizzard outside.

Twisted Fate bolted after. "I'm not losing you, Evelynn. Not again." He plunged into the wintry cloud to chase her down once again.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"There they are! GET 'EM!" A man shouted, his face morphing into a purple rage mask.

"Time to go, Fate!"

Twisted Fate gathered his deck and abandoned the poker game-in-progress, other players staring agape as cards were snatched from their hands. As TF jogged, he pulled the extra cards from his sleeves; you can never be too safe when it comes to your livelihood.

"C'mon Fate! That barkeep's got the cops!"

"Keep your pants on, Malcolm!" Fate retorted, catching up to his partner in an alleyway. The duo darted across the stone pavement, scurrying faster than the rats around them. Gunfire was heard in the distance.

"Damn, they're firin' on us already?" Graves exclaimed. He sounded more joyful than scared, though this didn't slow his pace.

Fate smirked. They were prepared for this: they had tickets to a one-way cruise all set up. The cruise liner was leaving that very morning, a grand ship aptly named The Lone Chance, docked in this little backwater Port Santorini off of the Bilgewater mainland.

"Ya just _had_ to pull that last minute con, didn'ja?" Graves growled.

Fate's smile widened as he chuckled. "You know me Malcolm; I can't pass up a good set o' suckers like these!"

Their pace quickened as they heard rifle shots ricochet off the flagged-stone path. The Lone Chance was in sight—her smoke stacks billowed proudly as they spotted the gangplank being pulled away.

"Damn it Fate!" Graves hollered, "Damnit, damnit, damnit!"

Their footfalls thudded onto the wooden dock as Twisted Fate watched the liner float into the harbor. His eyes spun around the busy docks, spotting a crowd of sailors under a crane.

"Malcolm! This way!"

Fate dashed towards the crowd, shoving his way through the burly sailors, who scattered from the chaos of the pursuing mob. Fate grabbed the shoulder of Graves' poncho before making a mighty leap…

"Fate, what're ya—AAAAAAHHH!"

Graves was flung out over the open ocean as Twisted Fate swung from the chain on the crane. They thudded onto the shiny white deck, angry shouts echoing after them.

"YOU COME BACK HERE YOU TWO!"

"So long, Santorini!" Fate waved his hat in farewell.

"WOOOO-WEE" Graves called in agreement.

* * *

"So where're we headed next?"

Twisted Fate took a long swig from his beer, putting his feet up on the table. "Whichever port this takes us."

Graves scowled. His face sounded like sand paper as he scratched it. "We were just in Vilhellos, we should avoid that town until the heat dies down."

"Oh don't worry so much, ya old mother hen."

"Mother hen? I'm lookin' to _survive_ Fate. I can only assume you are too." Graves took a drink from his own mug, and when his gaze returned to the card shark, his brown eyes were more relaxed. "Well, I suppose we can relax on the way."

Twisted Fate tipped his hat over his eyes as he leaned back, letting his mind wander. As crummy a town as Santorini had been, the haul had been more than enough to get them out of where ever they ended up, and _fast_. Fate had pulled a brilliant trick, and Malcolm had "acquired" their escape tickets just in the nick of time.

"It's too bad Old man Clive and the Missus couldn't make it," Graves had joked with a devilish grin.

As Fate reclined, he heard whispers from the only other group in the bar; a gathering of twittering ladies with oversized hats and far too much to drink.

"Oooo did you _hear_?"

"Yes, yes, that noble-man, in Villhellos of all places!"

"Oh his poor widow must be devastated…"

"If she isn't rolling in _gold_ that is—"

"_Rose!_"

"I'm just saying is all…"

"How _did_ he die?"

At this point, Fate had sat up. If there was trouble in Vilhellos, it might be better to abandon ship before port.

He turned ever so slightly to catch a plump woman in a lime green dress take a deep breath. "Well, he didn't so much as _die_ as he was…._murdered!_" A chorus of gasps erupted.

"Oh-no…"

"In _Vilhellos_ of all places…"

"Yes! No one knows by whom…but people are saying…it was an _assassin!_"

"Oh hogwash!"

"_Rose!_"

"What? I'm simply saying it would take a hell of an assassin to get past that guard of his. That Lord was more paranoid than the High Chancellor!"

"Well, the assassin didn't do a very clean job of it…very _messy_ from what I heard. Even had to, er, ex the maid who witnessed it."

Fate's eyes met Graves'. Graves had obviously been listening as well. "What do you make of it Malcolm?"

He grunted. "Might be trouble…but it sounds like the jobs' done…so might be an opportunity. After all, no one's gonna deal with a coupla swindlers with a killer on the loose."

Twisted Fate smiled. "I'll drink to that." Their glasses clinked as they laughed.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Vilhellos was a grim looking port; being a port of Noxus, the guard was tight, but they seemed rather preoccupied to worry about Fate and Graves. The pair got to swindling right away, finding a noisy saloon with plenty of drunkards ready to empty their fat pockets.

"How does he _do_ it?" one drunkard slurred as he coughed up his last coin to Graves, "this one was born unner a lucky sth…fth…sthar…"

Graves chuckled. "It seems that I was." He gazed longingly at the beer his drunken opponent kicked back, rolling his cigar between his lips. The duo had decided alcohol only made people sloppy, evident by the victims of their tricks.

Fate puffed his cigarette and rose from his place near Graves. "I think we earned us a round," he said as he strolled towards the bar. Graves' grumpy countenance lifted in anticipation.

Fate parked himself on a stool, in front of a rather polished bar. The saloon was surprisingly posh, a definite upgrade from the port previous. He saw the bartender serving some rather expensively dressed gentlemen, their clothes adorned with gold trim. _We should hit them up before the night is through_ Fate thought, noting the clink of gold bags landing on the bar. He motioned to the bartender for two beers.

"Make that three," another answered to his right. The bartender nodded and went about preparing the drinks.

Fate glanced at the voice and saw a woman dressed equally as fashionably as the group of fat cats. Her black form-fitting dress sparkled, revealing her thin frame, and her matching hat was covering a head full of silvery-blonde hair. Twisted Fate couldn't help but admire her gorgeous appearance, from her high heels all the way to her heavily lidded eyes.

"Evenin' ma'am," Fate touched the brim of his hat.

"Hello there," she said, her voice like honey. "I see you and your friend there are having quite a night." She nodded towards Graves, who was scooping in the last of his winnings. "Must be useful, having all that," she paused, flitting her eyes over Fate's own appearance, "_Luck._"

Fate smirked. "Indeed it is ma'am."

The bartender slid the three frosty mugs onto the bar in front of them. The woman took one and began sipping delicately.

"You know," she continued, "there might be more opportunities for that luck at the Grand Gala next week. It would be a shame if you couldn't come." Her eyes narrowed.

"A fancy party for two ole country folk like us?" Fate teased, "We'd never get in."

"No I suppose not," sighed the woman. She drank heavily from her beer. "But…if I could get an address to send to…?"

Fate's smile widened. This woman obviously had ambitions, typical of a Noxus noble. "How much do ya want, darling?"

She waved her hand. "Details…I don't think this is the place, do you?"

Fate glanced at his partner. The Grand Gala was full of bumbling, rich fools who were intent on wasting their gold on drink and gambling: a con-man's paradise if there ever was one. He and Graves wouldn't have to pull a job for the rest of the year, and they could enjoy the coming winter in some tropical locale. _Should I make the decision on my own? We'll probably head towards our safe house in the marshes on the outskirts of Noxus…_

Twisted Fate pulled a queen of spades from his jacket and scribbled directions down. "Send it here, if you must." He was taking a gamble, but hey, that was just his line of business: taking the guesswork out of the games didn't take the guess work out of reading a player. And this woman was definitely a big player.

She took the card in her pale hands and laid coins on the counter. Her heels clicked as she sauntered to the exit. "See ya around, slick."

"You did WHAT?"

* * *

Even in their private rented room, Fate could see heads turn through the frosted glass at the sound of Graves' shout. The con-man was now pacing the creaky wood, his hair mussed from his hands running through it. Fate, by contrast, reclined at the table.

"Fate…why? That safe house is…well _safe_. We keep its location secret for a reason!"

"Malcolm…it's the _Grand Gala_. How many con-men get into that? We can spend the rest of the winter on some beach in Demacia—"

"Is that _all_ you ever think about? We can't enjoy that beach if we do something _stupid_ and end up in prison."

"We've pulled harder jobs."

"Have we?" Graves snapped, "Because last I checked, we pulled those jobs _without_ revealing our home base. I just don't even know what was going through that damned gypsy head of your's…"

"Malcolm…"

"I mean what if that woman works for the High Chancellor—"

"Graves—"

"Or _worse_ that killer on the loose—"

"GRAVES!" Fate shouted. "Calm yourself. Ain't no assassin gonna mess with _us_. We're not worth the trouble. Besides, we're gonna be so well off if we can make it to the Gala that even the Noxus guards can't resist our bribes."

Graves grumbled for a moment. He suddenly took a seat and chugged his abandoned beer mug. He wiped his rugged beard with the back of his hand, glancing at the mug. "'S warm…" he stated, studying the glass for a moment. He looked back up at his partner. "Fine. Let's get to planning b'fore I sober up and realize this is a bad idea."

"Great!" Fate slapped Graves' back. "I was thinkin' _you_ should be wingman this time around…"

Graves snorted. "Typical…" he mumbled.

Minutes later, a scream jolted the partners from their scheming. They rushed out into the crowded bar area, where an old barmaid was rushing down the stairs—her clothes were haphazardly put back on, so Fate suspected she was doing more than just serving drinks…

"He's DEAD!" she shrieked "Lord V-Vilhellos…He was on top of m-me and then…then…"

The bartender grabbed the hysteric wench to steady her. It was then that the crowd realized she was coated in blood—her neck was crimson, her once-white blouse completely stained, her half-pulled panty hose on her shaking legs now a bright pink. The barmaid was tossed to the side as most of the crowd rushed upstairs to the bedrooms. Graves caught the barmaid before she thudded to the floor. He lightly maneuvered her in his arms.

"She's not hurt," he realized, "this ain't her blood."

Fate's gaze lifted to the balcony above. The tiny drunkard Graves had been cheating stumbled to the railing. "The Mayor'sh brother—dead cold!"

The whole room was in a tizzy; the mood switched from drunken frivolity to one of extreme panic. Drunks tripped over themselves, some tumbling off the balcony. The barmaid screeched again, recoiling abruptly from Graves' touch. Everyone made a rush for the door just as the gold-clad guards shoved their way in, trying to make order from the chaos.

Graves put a hand on Fate's shoulder. "Time to go."

The pair rushed back into their private room just as the guards flooded the space at the foot of the stairs. Fate shimmied the windows open and they both sprinted away from the buzzing saloon.

"Well, where-ever we end up, I think it's high time we move on," Fate huffed once they found a quiet alley.

"Agreed."

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading thus far! I love feedback, anything is cool, as long as it's respectful, so please review! More to come…**


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Reviews welcome! **

**Chapter 3**

Graves took a long puff from his cigar, inspecting their luggage tied in the carriage. Nodding after he deemed it wouldn't fall, he climbed into the vacant wooden bench opposite the bags. His fingers rolled the cigar, and he exhaled before putting the stump to his lips again. Adjusting his newly purchased hat, he looked over the heads of the crowd from his perch. _Fate's taking his sweet time…_ he thought pensively. The murders in this town had him on edge. He puffed feverishly while his eyes darted around.

He listened to the talk. And _boy_ was there talk. The thing on everyone's mind was "Who was next?" Well one thing Graves knew: it wasn't him or Fate. They would be long gone before nightfall again. Graves was hoping to make good time, and the weather seemed to want that too. He scanned the crowd once again.

"Did you hear? _Two _more! The assassin killed two more!"

"Doesn't this vagrant have anything better to do?"

"_Rose!_"

"Well he's clearly got it out for this family…The Vilhellos brothers and now his _wife?_"

"I heard her death wasn't as messy…makes you wonder if it was the same fellow…"

"Probably died of worry!"

"Or was _poisoned_."

"_Rose!_"

Graves blew out more smoke as he sighed. Yes, he was certainly glad to be leaving this town. Unlike his partner, he didn't like all this excitement. No, he'd much rather pull his job, get his money and move on to enjoy his well-earned cash. The trouble only prevented him from the last step. Twisted Fate however, seemed to thrive in it.

At last, Twisted Fate emerged from the crowd leading the horse that would pull them out of this hapless port.

"Didn't get distracted by a flirt, didja?"

"No…well, only a little."

"Uh-huh," nodded Graves, rolling his eyes. He strapped the carriage to the horse and climbed in the driver's seat. "Gee up!"

Fate reclined into the back as the cart began rolling. They rolled slowly through the thick throng of people, but eventually broke free of the bustle and out onto the calm dirt roads. The wind rustled the leaves lightly, nature clearly unaware how grave the area was.

"So Fate," Graves called back, "I've got something to add to our little scheme."

"What's that? You want dancin' lessons before?"

Graves ignored the cheeky comment. "I wanna get to our marsh house from the Demacian side."

Twisted Fate sat up abruptly. It was his turn to puff feverishly as he fumbled with his cigarette and matches. When he finally inhaled the smoke, he let out a long breath. "Malcolm," he started, "I don't think you understand…we've only got one week—_one_—to get to the safe house and then back to Noxus capital, and you want us to take the _long route_?"

"It's safer," Graves said curtly, "I'd rather not get ambushed before we even get to the job. Besides, there ain't gunna be no job if it turns out to be a trap."

"But…Malcolm…" Fate faltered.

"We don't have to go in deep. Just along the border and loop around Kalamanda. We can even go to them hot springs ya like so much."

"Kaladoun Springs?"

Graves tossed his stogie off the cart. "Yep."

Fate's gaze floated downward, his hat shielding his eyes from Graves. Graves knew this would be a tough sell. His partner was so focused on what was, essentially, the con of a lifetime. The con itself meant more to him than the money, Graves knew.

Twisted Fate returned to his reclined position. "Fine," he grunted.

Graves smirked. "I knew you'd come around."

"But you're still wingman."

* * *

Late that night they rolled into a quiet village. Though Fate was dozing in and out of consciousness as the pulled in, Graves forced his bloodshot eyes awake. The single guard at the entrance looked equally as tired as he straightened at Malcolm's approach.

"State your business," The guard ordered. He merely a kid, though he as he might to seem intimidating.

"Merchants," Graves yawned, handing him the faux papers he carried at all times, "Passing through."

The guard glanced at the papers and waved him in. "Take care citizen: there's been trouble not far from here. Killings…"

"So I've heard."

As Graves pulled through the sleepy town, he felt himself nodding off, his lids feeling heavy. He decided to pull over and simply settle into the cart. The night was warm and he could worry about accommodations in the morning. Besides, Twisted Fate would rage hotter than a gun barrel if Graves had to wake him.

He leaned back, tilted his hat low and closed his eyes. Sleep almost took him before quiet whispers reached his ears.

"Be sure to make a clean job of it!" a voice hissed quietly.

"Don't worry," A woman's voice cooed, "I'm a professional."

Graves didn't dare move for fear of being caught hearing something he shouldn't have. So he simply tried to shut it out, to no avail.

"Just be _cautious_. You've heard all the ruckus in Vilhellos! Who knows who that could've been…one of my political opponents most likely…"

Graves heard the woman sigh impatiently. "I _know_. This village is much smaller though. Any news from here moves more slowly. You'll be long gone, returned home for weeks before anyone hears of it. Don't worry dear…"

"Y-you better be right. I have the Gala coming up soon and I can't have any trouble while I'm warming up to the higher-ups."

The woman allowed herself a quiet laugh. "I'll take care of everything."

Graves heard the pair walk down the street in silence. He held his breath until their footsteps faded, then let out a relieved sigh. He'd much rather he hadn't heard all that. _Just forget it and get some sleep_, he chided himself. He settled down into a fitful rest with only the sounds of the snoring Twisted Fate.

He had trouble forgetting. The woman's voice made his skin crawl still.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Twisted Fate awoke early the next morning to the sun heating the village below. He slowly sat up, his hat falling off his face and allowing the full blast of light into his face. Fate yawned and stretched the kinks that come with sleeping on a rickety cart. _We ought to be sleeping in cushy beds with all the haul we've been gettin'_ he thought grumpily. He climbed out of the cart and placed his hat back on with a smirk. _That will all change once we hit the Gala._

Fate nudges Graves awake, who rubs his head groaning as he sits up. "Rise 'n' shine. Didja get your beauty sleep?" Fate taunted. Graves merely grunted.

Fate surveyed the sleepy town, seeing an inn near their parking spot. "I'm gonna get myself some breakfast then," he said, heading towards the inn.

"We should get movin' soon!" Graves called after. Fate just waved him off as he lit a morning cigarette.

Twisted Fate's footsteps creaked on the old rustic wood floors. The inn was obviously very old, but well-kept and clean. Behind the bar the glasses stood neatly on shelves and shined in the morning sun. A man stood sweeping a corner of the room, his magnificent mustache furrowed as he ensured every bit of dust was collected in a pile. Fate hopped up on the barstool, waving to the inn-keeper. The sweeping man nodded and set his broom aside.

"What can I get ya, stranger?" the mustached man quipped.

Fate puffed on his cigarette. "Just lookin' for some breakfast."

The mustached inn-keeper nodded and went to his wrought-iron stove. "Ya ought to be real careful around here, stranger. I've heard worrying news from some of the larger towns. Murders of all things!"

Twisted Fate nodded, unsurprised. "Seems the mayor of Vilhellos met his untimely demise, or so I've heard."

The inn-keeper chopped his leeks, shaking his head. "You haven't heard the half of it. A lot of Demacian officials are being hit, too."

"I thought paid assassins were more of a Noxian thing."

"Seems at least _some_ of the Demacians aren't above it. Being so close to the border…it makes ya worry, ya know?"

"Yeah…" Fate replied slowly. He suddenly felt a strange urge to skip town, an urge he didn't normally get. "Hey, can I get a whiskey, too?"

"O' course," the man said, though he shot Fate a quizzical look. He walked into the back room just as the front door creaked open to allow Graves in.

"If we leave soon, we can make it to Clearborne well b'fore night fall," Graves announced, ever the planner.

"Alright," Fate said simply.

Graves scratched his head. "What's the matter with you? No belly-aching? You almost never leave a town without some sort of argument."

Fate shrugged. He decided telling his partner about the Demacian murders would only worry him more, and he already felt Graves was treating this Gala job like one might a snake; the first sign of aggression, and he was out of there. He felt Demacia was the safer side of the border, and Fate was not going to try and convince him otherwise.

The moustache man returned with a dusty bottle. He nodded at Graves before grabbing a short glass from the shelf and pouring it hesitantly for Fate. Fate took it and drank deeply. He knew he ought not to drink this early, but he couldn't shake that awful feeling of itchy feet—it reminded him too much of the days of his youth, when living with gypsies meant your feet were always itchy and unnerved.

"Gimme one too," Graves motioned for the whiskey and the inn-keeper coughed up another sparkling glass. Graves also took a deep swig. He glanced at Fate after and noticed the empty glass. "Maybe you oughta leave the bottle," Graves told the inn-keeper, who sat the bottle down amid another strange look.

As the inn-keeper returned to his work, Graves turned to face Fate. "Look Fate…I know them murders were worryin' but I'll tell ya what, going to the Demacian side is gonna help. I'm tellin' ya. We're, uh, gonna look back and laugh. Yeah, laugh. It's just gonna be 'nother… excitin' tale to tell. It's all behind us from here on out." Graves refreshed their glasses and took a hearty gulp. He gazed at his glass. "Yep…all behind us." He seemed to be telling himself more than Fate.

Fate sighed as he drank yet again. The inn-keeper returned with his meal, which he pushed around on the plate for a while. After coaxing from Graves ("C'mon, we need you mostly sober, 'til Clearborne.") he managed to shovel some of the eggs and leeks down his throat, which seemed to help his mood. Sure, there were assassins afoot, but Demacia _was _the safer choice by far. Guards were forgiving and generally fairer. _We'll be fine…as I said, no assassins interested in us_.

He swallowed more food, feeling more confident. _This job is worth it, _he told himself, _this will be the best job yet._ Graves pounded him on the back with a half smirk on his face before taking a drink of whiskey.

Graves would never swallow that drink because a curdling scream caused him to spew it out. Such a piercing sound in the quiet village made everyone in the inn cringe.

The piercing sound peaked as it burst into the inn; a plump woman had gray flyaway hairs entangled on her terrified face. Her face was deathly pale, and she couldn't stop the scream from escaping her lips over and over.

"Sharon! Calm down darling! What's wrong?" the inn-keeper rushed to the screeching woman, his moustache aflutter.

Sharon managed to stop the screaming but could only gape silently and point in the direction she came from. Only the occasional yelp or whimper indicated she could speak.

"Oh no…please don't tell me…" Graves looked almost as pale as the woman. He quickly rose to follow the two townsfolk as they rushed in the direction of the trouble. Fate rushed after.

"Malcolm…what?"

The two townsfolk joined a nervous throng of citizens near the entrance. They were all staring up at the feeble columns that marked the town's entrance. They spun around to the inn-keeper silently; only gasps of surprise could be heard.

"What's happened here?" the moustache man demanded, "What's gotten Sharon all—MY GOD"

He too gaped up at the column. Fate was confused, but Graves pointed soundlessly upward. "The young man…from the entrance…"

It was a guard, but his lifeless eyes looked anything but young at that moment. They still held, frozen in fear, staring blankly out over the heads of the crowd. The rest of his limp body was strung up to the stone column, his gold armor lashed open to reveal his dripping innards. Below his strapped corpse, a message in his blood read, "BEWARE THE GALA."

Twisted Fate didn't realize he had been clutching the whiskey bottle, but he was glad he did; he took a large mouthful.

"'Beware the Gala'…what does that mean?" someone called.

"And he was so promising too…so highly recommended…" an old, white-haired guard looked on with sadness.

Another citizen threw up his breakfast.

"Who could have done this?"

"IT WAS THEM!" Suddenly, the inn-keeper was pointing accusingly towards the pair of con-men. "They showed up just this morning! Who else could it be?"

"I don't recognize 'em."

"How could they do such a thing to an exemplar of Noxian spirit?"

"KILL THEM!"

"Now wait just a damn minute!" Graves started, but the shouting was drowning most of his words. Fate stared at the message blankly, taking another draught. BEWARE THE GALA….

"We just rolled into town and were gonna head out right away, no trouble what-so-ever."

BEWARE THE GALA….

"We know everyone here! Liers!"

"Now, c'mon now, we ain't got nothing to do with….with Noxus exemplars! We're just travelin' through, I swear!"

BEWARE THE GALA…

"GUILTY!"

"No!"

"Look at 'em!" the inn-keeper pointed with more force, causing his moustache to become more disheveled. "They've been drinkin' all mornin'!"

BEWARE THE—

The inn-keeper snatched the bottle from Fate's hand mid drink. "Only men of guilt drink like this! Filthy…digustin' murderers!—"

"LISTEN!" Graves boomed. "We don't want no trouble! Look, we can pay ya for our food 'n' be on our way! Outta yer lives forever!"

"And get away scot free?"

"We don't want no trouble…c'mon Fate back me up!"

Fate had noticed the trembling old guard who had been silent. He snatched back the whiskey bottle and handed it to the old man. The man slowly took it, slowly touching his lips to it and taking a sip.

"Captain!" Sharon exclaimed, appalled at the wizened guard's behavior.

"They couldn't have done it," The guard said finally. Another gasp overtook the group. "Either they're dumber than hell killers, or they'd be long by now. Look—" his shriveled hand fingered the message "Blood is dry. This was done last night, most likely. And by a paid assassin too."

The inn-keeper stammered. "B-but why—"

"His father's a nobleman, ain't he? He's got influence and enemies, his son is a good target. They wanted to send him a message."

Sharon was in tears. "But w-what message…t-this one…"

"I'm not a clever enough man to know. But I know that _these two_" he pointed at the pair, still just as shocked as the townsfolk "don't look like no assassin I've ever seen. No sirree this looks like a precise job, and these men look like sloppy gentlemen."

Relief washed over the two as they profusely tried to thank the old man. He cut them off, "But I don't wanna see you two here any longer! Pay yer dues, then out with ya"

"O' course, we don't want no trouble," Graves reached in his pocket and threw a good amount of gold coins at the inn-keepers feet. "Keep the change. We'll be headed on out…c'mon Fate," he hissed.

Twisted Fate followed Graves' brisk pace to their cart. Graves silently coaxed the horse to start moving. They rolled slowly through the town. Glares came at them from all directions. Sharon, the plump woman, was weeping into her apron; others who tried to comfort her were just as shaken and pale. The inn-keeper glowered at Fate with his still-twisted moustache. The old guard simply stared onward, taking another sip from the bottle. They exited the village in near-silence, with only the sound of Sharon's sobbing echoing after the rickety cart. They passed the gruesome scene one last time. Graves turned away, but Twisted Fate couldn't help but stare.

BEWARE THE GALA


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I tried to ignore 'em!" Graves rambled from his nervous seat in the rear of the cart. "They were talkin' 'bout things I shouldn'ta heard and I tried to ignore 'em! But I just couldn't…I heard 'em…"

Twisted Fate groaned. He had taken the reigns after Graves had started pulling them off the path every few minutes. It had been hours since they had left the village, but Graves was still on edge. With no more alcohol to turn to, Fate had resorted to smoking to help him deal with a nervous Malcolm; he had forgotten to restock however, and was quickly smoking through his last few cigarettes.

"Malcolm, it woulda happened whether you heard 'em or not! Those townsfolk needed _someone_ to blame! Besides, we're in Demacia…like you said, it's behind us."

"Yeah, but I had hoped it'd be a lot further behind us."

Fate sadly flicked his cigarette away and ran a hand over his face; he felt his scratchy sandpaper face. _I'll need a shave before the Gala_ he mused, fingering his now unkempt beard. The cart had found a shoddy cobblestone path and they were now cruising along sparse forest that kept giving way to farmland. The farmland would make getaways difficult, as most anything could be spotted for miles, as far as the horizon line. Fate hoped his partner was right, and that the assassin was no longer interested in Demacian blood.

"Next time, we're running," Graves decided, "I hear something like that, and we're not staying any longer than we have to."

"That'll look even more suspicious," Fate objected.

"Better'n that mess we just got out of. Besides, you didn't hear them."

Fate shifted the reigns to one hand as he fumbled with his matches. "I thought you said they were just talking business."

"Yeah…but that woman's voice," Graves shuddered, "It's not a voice you forget."

"You're sayin' it was a woman?"

"We don't know who it is! It could be a legion of the yokes, for all we know!"

"You're starting to sound like those old hens on the cruise, Malcolm," Fate chuckled.

Graves grumbled. "I honestly don't care to know who did it, so long as whoever it was doesn't get us into worse trouble than we deserve!" Graves pulled out a cigar "I mean, sure we're swindlers, if we get caught it's our own damn fault—means we weren't careful. But we didn't do any murdering! Light me."

"I'm out of matches."

Graves growled, leaving the unlit cigar clenched in his lips.

The sun was starting to sink in the sky when they finally arrived at Clearborne Springs. A bright wooden sign marked their arrival into the quiet, idyllic town. Everywhere you looked, people were smiling, in front of their groomed gardens and painted houses. The scene was quite different from the previous towns in Noxus, which all seemed dreary and in shambles. They rolled through town and saw most of the citizens packing up their various wares and farm equipment. They headed for the largest building in town, poised on the north edge.

The large wooden building was a well-structured, several story villa. Over the red double-door entry hung the sign "Clearborne Hotel" with a rickety porch underneath. Rocking chairs dotted the large porch, and a man snoozed in one of them, his snores traveling well in the cool evening air.

Fate stopped the cart and lead the horse to an enclosure on the front lawn. He gazed up at the vermillion shutters that bordered the magnificent windows. _I can't wait for a nice bed_.

The pair of men entered the red doors into the high-ceilinged foyer. Potted plants dwelled in almost every corner and on every baby blue window sill. Delicate chairs and tables filled the right half of the room. They approached a podium situated near the entryway.

"Hello! Welcome to Clearborne Hotel!" The sandy-blonde receptionist greeted, "We have the finest springs in Kaladoun Marsh! Can I get you gentleman a room tonight?"

They arranged their rooms for the night and followed the short receptionist as she scurried up the stairs.

"At least travelers aren't uncommon here…." Graves thought aloud.

* * *

It was with great relief that Twisted Fate peeled his dirty clothes off. The receptionist had said they would clean them if he left them in the changing room, but he still wore his trusty hat with his ace of spades. He sauntered outside into the enclosure where the springs were fenced off. The bubbling water steamed the whole area, but he could make out a decorative waterfall trickling into the hot springs and a beautiful, twisting tree, probably imported from Ionia from the looks of it.

Fate felt the water with his toe; it was warm and felt like a reprieve to his cool skin. He slowly lowered himself into the water, feeling his aches and pains dissolve in the heat. He let out a satisfied sigh.

As he soaked, he let his mind wander; his thoughts were significantly happier with a full belly and sans a worry-wart Graves. He wondered about his partner sometimes. The man was smart—it was obvious from how he had survived the tough streets of Bilgewater as a kid—but he had a hyper-cautious outlook on nearly everything. Fate on the other hand had been taught to not worry, to take life by the horns. It was typical of a gypsy to end up becoming a risk-taker and a scoundrel, like he was—he was taught to have fun and not worry so much. Graves learned that caution kept you alive.

Carefully setting aside his hat, Fate sank under the water, letting his shoulder-length hair flow around him, feeling the dirt of the road melt away. As he reemerged, he was already forgetting that message in the village…what was it again? "Beware the Gala?" he breathed aloud. How could he? This was going to be the biggest job he's pulled, possibly the biggest job _anyone_ had ever pulled. How many con-men got the chance to work the Grand Gala, after all…

Fate flicked his eyes open, hearing a critter rustle around in the decorative shrubs. Seeing that the sun had nearly gone, he decided he ought to turn in for the night. The night previous had not been restful, and he was ready to relax in the springs the next morning, bright and early. Fate was glad he chided Malcolm into another day at the Springs.

He reentered the changing room to find his partner sitting in a silk robe, which Fate thought was rather unbefitting of a grisly man like Malcolm.

"Ugh, Fate, put something on, no one wants to see that," he tossed him a robe as well, though Fate noted Graves' robe was not securely fastened and rather just laying open from where he sat.

"Turning in for the night," Twisted Fate told him, tying his belt.

"I'll probably do the same shortly," said Graves, scratching his bare, hairy chest, "Just wanna get all the grime off."

Suddenly the door swung open and a slight figure stepped inside. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" she squealed. She was a young girl, obviously a maid based on the beige uniform dress she wore around her shapely frame. Her jet black hair was tied in a bun and she had rosy red lips. Her pale white skin had turned nearly the color of her lips as she looked on with embarrassment.

"It's fine, it's fine," Graves spat in annoyance, covering himself up haphazardly. "Just take the clothes and get 'em clean, ok?" He tossed her his dirty poncho.

She collected his and Fate's clothes, which dropped most of his hidden cards as she draped his jacket over her thin arms. "I'll h-have these clean r-right away," she stammered, giving an awkward bow before clicking out of the room.

Fate collected his deck off the floor as Graves started complaining. "That damn girl. She was up in my room earlier."

"Whoa, Graves, doin' what?"

Graves hit Fate with a towel. "Nothin' like _that_. My bed needed fresh sheets and she musta been fumbling with them for twenty minutes before she got them on. Real fussy, that one is."

"I dunno Malcolm, seemed like she kinda liked you. From the way she was," he glanced down pointedly, "_starin'_."

Graves covered himself even more. "Nonsense, she's too young anyhoo."

"Quite a cute filly though, ain't she?"

"Well, you'd chase after any ole skirt. I prefer _experienced_ women."

"Sure Malcolm," Fate chuckled, "_'Experienced'_."

* * *

The next morning, Twisted Fate rose early, just as planned. He dragged a red-eyed Malcolm with him to get breakfast. They were seated at one of the tables in the grand entry room, waiting to be served.

A couple of rich-looking people made a big show of entering the dining room. The blonde receptionist scurried up to them straight away, tripping over her brown heels in her attempt to attend to them, bombarding them with questions. "How was your rest, sir and madam? Everything to your specifications? Is there anything I can start you off with? Coffee, perhaps? Let me get that for you ma'am…Do you need more wine in the room?"

As the couple sat slowly, the man with a curly gray moustache finally responded. "We'll be having toast with eggs sunny-side up—_sunny-side_ not _over-easy_ that would be preposterous—and a sherry for the missus. I'll have a coffee with exactly three and a half lumps of sugar. _Three and a half_. I can't have anymore and I can't be bothered to handle the matter." He adjusted his golden ascot all through his command. The blonde bowed profusely and scuttled into the kitchen.

"Hey, we don't get wine in_ our_ rooms. And we still haven't been served," Graves complained.

"He's some sort of Demacian official, look at the getup," Fate nodded towards the balding man. He wore several metals proudly on the chest of his white uniform. The shoulders had blue adornments with the Demacian symbol clearly emblazoned on it. The woman aside him was wearing a coffee-colored fur coat with matching hat and pearl necklace. "That woman is sucking up for tips."

"Smart lady," Graves said. He waved down the blonde as she served the couple their drinks. "'Scuse me, can we have some service?"

"Of course someone will be with you shortly," she called. She looked to the corner of the room. "Crissy! Can you serve these gentleman?"

A clatter sounded as the little maid from the night before tripped over the chair she was sweeping under. She spun around, cheeks blooming red yet again. "Y-…yes!" she answered. She smoothed out her dress before deliberately stepping her heels carefully around the tables.

"U-um, what can I get you…?"

Graves looked her over. "Seems like heels wouldn't befit someone as…er…ungainly as you."

"O-oh!" she glanced anxiously at the shoes, "Just…you know…part of the uniform. Ms. Callalily—the owner, you know—thinks a p-proper lady ought to, uh, have…you know. Heels. She wants to impress…well, you know," she motioned towards the stuffy couple. "_dignitaries_."

She stood there in discomfort until the two got their order through. She mumbled a response before stumbling to the kitchen.

"Yep, she's into ya Graves."

"What? No!"

"And you're so rude!" Fate berated, "You oughta treat a lady with more respect."

"They aren't as helpless as they seem," Graves retorted, "They're clever…conniving. They oughta be treated just the same."

Fate rolled his eyes. As the maid returned with their drinks, Fate confronted her. "Hey darling, whattaya think of this here fella?"

"Wha…huh?"

"Was just wonderin' was all. You seemed interested."

The maid tried to stutter a response but couldn't form the words. She simply blushed beet red and ran back into the kitchen.

"And _I'm_ the one bein' disrespectful."

**Author's note: Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying the story thus far, let me know what you like with a review! If you hate the story, you can tell me that too! As long as you tell me why! :)**


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Twisted Fate exited the Springs only a few times all day; Once to relieve himself, once for lunch, and the rest to refill on drinks. He dedicated that day to completely rejuvenating his body for the trip to the safe house. _The Ionians have the right idea_ he mused. _Inner peace is the only way to get shit done. Maybe we'll hit that place up once we're finished in Noxus…_

Graves left even less than he did, having his drinks delivered to him, and only rousing himself for lunch. Fate teased him about his unusual laziness, but was just glad he had finally relaxed. Graves could be a fun guy…when he wasn't glancing over his shoulder every blink of the eye.

"Yeah, I bet your neck hurts from all the shifty glances, eh Malcolm?"

"Shut up, Fate," Graves grunted without opening his eyes.

Fate was slowly realizing why the maid girl was such a nuisance to Graves; a solitary man, Graves felt at ease when he was sure no one was watching. The maid was surely watching him, and very clumsily tried to hide that fact when she was discovered. Every time Fate exited for a drink, the maid was in eyesight, spinning quickly away from the door she had most certainly been watching. During lunch, each time she brought them a refill or more finger sandwiches, she lingered over their table a tad too long.

"That girl gives me the willies, Fate," Graves complained each time, "There's something just not right about her."

Fate smirked. The girl may have been weird, but Fate was sure she was just a klutz with a crush on Graves. He had heard her inadvertently call him "Malcolm," surely what she called him in her fantasies. She had spilled a total of 4 drinks—3 of which were during lunch alone—on him, and two on Fate himself. Each time she stammered a thousand apologies while trying to dab the mess off their clothes (sometimes hovering a little too close to certain areas…). Despite her slight pestering, the two still managed to extend their naps to most of the day.

"Fate, you don't often have good ideas, but when you do," Graves yawned loudly, "They're golden."

The gypsy merely shrugged, sipping on his beer. He tilted his hat over his face and prepared to doze back asleep.

"I tell ya what, Fate, I think after dinner, I might come down here to _sleep_ for the night." He moved the water around with a pruned hand. His head spun behind him when the bushes rustled lightly behind him. "What was that? Who's there?"

Fate waved an arm at his partner. "Just the wind, Malcolm."

"No wind moves the branches that much," Graves said uncertainly.

"Then it was prob'bly a critter. I heard one the other night. Quit your worryin'. I thought you had gotten over that."

Graves stared so long and intensely at the bush, it may have caught fire despite the cool evening. But the shrubbery surrounding them remained motionless. Fate heaved a sigh.

"Welp, better get dressed for dinner at least. I'm sure we'll be back here though." Fate climbed out of the bubbling water and toweled off.

A few others were also at dinner, including the stuffy dignitary couple, still ever-demanding. Poor Crissy was at wit's end trying to attend to all the other guests. The special was stuffed grouse, and the two con-men downed the delicious meat hungrily. Others stared at their poor manners, but manners didn't mean as much as money—of which they had plenty—so Fate continued his sloppy repast.

"Somethin' don't feel right," Graves said suddenly. He was back to scanning the surrounding room every so often, as if mimicking a Demacian Eagle, though decidedly less regal.

"Just eat your fill and go back to the Springs," Fate waved off his worry, "You'll forget all about your funny feeling."

"Naw, something's wrong. I feel like things have been too easy in this town."

"They've been easy in other towns before. We're not pulling jobs, remember?"

Graves scratched his beard. "Yeah, but we ain't never had this bad a streak of disasters either."

"Lady Luck is funny that way," Fate stated simply, "She comes and goes. She'll be back."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Lulling us into a false sense of safety."

Fate shook his head. "You just need another drink. Hey, Crissy!" Fate called to the frazzled maid, "More wine darling?"

Crissy looked at Fate as if she was trying to pretend she didn't know him, but ran into the kitchen anyways.

"Aww no, she'll only spill it on me," Graves groaned.

"I'll pour it," Twisted Fate reassured, "Just relax."

Graves seemed to ease off his haunches as Twisted Fate pumped him full of alcohol. The room was merrier as the night stretched on.

"Yer righ' Fate," Graves slurred, "No reason ta worry. No reason at a—" he nearly tumbled but caught the edge of the table to steady himself.

"I think it's time for bed, buddy," Fate chided.

"No, no, you said hot springs and we're gonna hot springs," Graves insisted, his voice raised way too loud, "That's all there is to it. Gotta enjoy life ya know? Gotta enjoy this money we're a-bustin' our humps for!"

"Ok, Malcolm, if you say so."

Fate supported his partner to the springs, deciding it was better to amuse him than to have an angry drunk Graves. He figured the old dog would pass out soon enough.

Dragging him along, he noticed a group of men surrounding the entrance to the men's spring. They were becoming rowdy and belligerent. Fate spotted the blonde receptionist blocking their path.

"What's goin' on?" he demanded the woman.

"I'm sorry sir, but the springs have been privately reserved by his lordship. So sorry for the incon—"

"Reserved!?" Graves boomed, "What's this horse shit? I paid good money same as him, he can't _reserve_ jus' like that!"

The other men rallied around this. "Yeah, just because he's a dignitary, doesn't give him the right!"

"Yeah, that's unfair!"

"Alright Malcolm, no need to fight…" Fate started dragging Graves towards the stairs and to their rooms, trying to avoid poking this bee's nest. Graves protested, but Fate was able to coax him into his room before Graves upchucked his grouse.

"Alright now, just let it out," Fate said patiently, like a parent to a child would. When Graves finally sat up and wiped his moustache, Fate queried "All better?"

Graves simply moaned and slumped over in the bed. Fate threw a blanket over the man and left the room, looking for someone to clean up his partner's mess. _Where did that maid run off to…?_

He heard the clicking of high heels down the hallway, but saw nothing. He jogged to the end of the hall, thinking it might be one of the other maids or perhaps the blonde. "Excuse me, I need a cleanup—"

He turned the corner to see—no one. "Hmph," he sighed. He heard a door close nearby. He was sure it was one of the suites at the end of the hall. Fate walked to the door.

"Excuse me?" he called out. He went to knock but the door just creaked open by itself.

Inside the huge living room, he saw the Demacian dignitary in his underpants. That in itself would have been strange, but what was stranger was the figure hovering over him. At first Fate thought he had walked in on a private matter he should not have seen—the thin, feminine figure was not of the dignitary's plump wife—but then the figure issued a hiss, before an explosion of crimson bloomed from the dignitary's chest. The dignitary's terrified stare was forever frozen on his face.

Fate was rooted to the spot—should he try to stop the assailant? A million thoughts of action whirred in his head, but none came to fruition as he stood there stunned. Out of nowhere, an impossible lightning strike illuminated the half lit room. That split second was long enough: standing over the body, staring straight into his eyes, straight into his _soul_, was the shy, klutzy maid, as rooted in place as Fate was. Fate finally took a single step forward, putting up his hand to try to calm her down when the gravity of what she had done hit her.

It hit her, but instead of breaking down into tears—as Fate expected—she smiled. Not a small, shy smile, but a confident, sly grin with heavily lidded eyes gazing back. Before Twisted Fate could say a word, the plump wife entered from another room. The maid's head spun in that direction, then swiftly she bolted towards the window just the lightning hit again, just as the wife let out an ear-numbing scream. Fate finally forced his legs to move and he chased after her, but just as the window flung open, she vanished from sight. Rain suddenly fell in sheets, making visibility almost zero.

Fate stood in a daze through the flurry of events around him. The guards were called in, everyone questioned, Fate himself questioned half a dozen times, each time the wife standing up for him and blaming the girl—no, woman—with her jet black hair, her cute beige uniform splattered with red, her sly smile with heavy lids…a smile eerily familiar to Fate.

Yes, Fate swore he had seen that look before.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"I'm tellin' ya Malcolm, it was the same woman!"

Graves rustled through their belongings on the loaded cart. The horse waited patiently, already hooked up and ready for the morning's journey. "I really don't care who it was. I'm just glad you and the old cow were there. That blonde was trying so hard to pin it on me." He winced and his hand flew to his head. "Lord knows I was drinking enough to put me in hot water."

"Ya sure wanted to _be_ in hot water," Fate chuckled.

"Fate!" Graves snapped, "If you really think this lady is the same one who done offered the invitations, then I say we quit while we're ahead! No good can come from her!"

"I think it's all the more reason to try!" Fate proclaimed, fiddling with a 3 of clubs, "What does she _really_ want us to do? This is that political intrigue and mystery the gypsy are always talking about. We have to find out how the story ends!"

"The hell we do! I ain't goin' anywhere near that Gala if _she's_ gonna be there! We should just _stay out of it!_"

"You weren't there Malcolm," Fate enthused, "I was the only one who saw the murder. She didn't have so much as a dagger, and yet his belly was torn to shreds! You know what that means…"

"Oh, not this ole song 'n dance again—"

"_Magic!_"

Graves rolled his eyes. "She was an expert assassin, nothing more. She had us fooled the whole time! She was probably trying to make it seem like I did it…that might explain why she was following us so much but I never imagined it would be something like this…"

"I don't care how good she is," Fate said, suddenly standing from his seat in the cart, "You need a weapon for those kinds of wounds, whether it be a blade, a gun or _magic_."

Graves reached into a large sack. "Get your head outta the clouds, Fate. I can't travel with a gypsy-minded nutter." He pulled out a revolver, just small enough to conceal in a sleeve.

"Aww, Malcolm we don't need that. We're gonna be fine—"

"Oh really? Because the last half a dozen times we've said that, some fat cat has ended up with his guts spillin'" He roughly shoved the gun in his belt loop and climbed onto the driver's seat. "Gee-up!"

They rolled towards the south end of town. "Malcolm…hey, wait a second! GRAVES!" Fate was panicking, trying to look for something to throw at his partner. "We're goin' the wrong way! Graves! GRAVES!"

Fate grabbed the first thing that his hands found and shot it at the grisly man. A 9 of diamonds grazed Graves' face.

"Hey, OW! What was that for?"

"Let's talk this out, Graves! You're making a mistake," Fate pulled another card from his jacket and hit him again, this time giving him a papercut on his check.

"Hey CUT THAT OUT!"

"It'll be a pan next time!" Fate warned. Graves growled and pulled over. "Hear me out, Malcolm! If this lady was trying so hard to ex us, she had plenty of opportunities, _especially_ in Clearborne! She wants something different, something an assassin can't do, but a coupla scoundrels like us can. You know how valuable skills can be. If she asks for more, we make her sweeten the deal."

Graves sat in silence, arms crossed, steaming in his anger. Blood trickled from his papercut wound.

"We can walk away if she gives us something crazy. Easy as that," Fate reassured.

Graves grumbled some more before climbing into the back of the cart. "_You're_ driving then," he ordered.

Fate happily climbed into the driver's seat as Graves slumped in the back, growling his grumpiness. He gazed over the farm land as they hit the road once again.

"She's clever," Graves mentioned suddenly.

"Hm?"

"That maid. She waited until the second a thunderstorm showed up to make it hard to spot her on the farmland, to cover her getaway. She's smart."

Fate nodded. "We'll just have to be smarter."

* * *

Darkness had already fallen as Twisted Fate rolled into the bordertown of Brayden. At least one tavern bustled with lights and loud voices of drunken singers, but the rest of the town was quiet. Fate continued past the noisy tavern and found a seedy inn on the outskirts of town. He kicked Graves awake long enough for him to plod to their rented room and back asleep. The next morning, the pair stocked up on much needed tobacco and had a smoke with some of the farm hands arriving from their morning duties.

"Have ya fellas heard?" a friendly one asked them, smoking on his own cigarette. "They say there was a murder in the wee hours of the mornin', right by Zaun."

Graves stood bolt straight. "Where by Zaun?"

"Ironspike Mountains. Some Freljord ambassadors traveling through the mountains. A whole legion of the barbarians were killed, can ya believe it?"

Graves let out a relieved puff of smoke. Whatever the assassin was up to, she was across Noxus at this point, probably heading for the Gala herself. Fate was almost positive all these deaths were the same killer; he wasn't so sure before, but now that he knew she had magic, he was confident it was the woman he met at the saloon. Fate felt the excitement of seeing what the Grand Gala now held for them. "Time to go Graves."

"If you say so," Graves grunted.

The pair made it to their safe house, which was a trek into the Howling Marshes. No one was brave or foolish enough to try to go as far as their house, so it was great place to chill and let storms boil over. The pair had spent many a night cheating each other while playing poker in the old stone cottage. An unkempt rock path lead up to the door, and the two set about unloading.

"Glad we got here when we did," Fate announced, looking at his nearly empty coin purse. "Maybe we oughta take it easy until after the Gala."

Graves merely shrugged.

Fate was going for the last trip to the cart when suddenly, a woman materialized from the other side.

"Fancy meeting you here, slick," she cooed in that honey voice. The voice alone was alluring to Fate, but she was also wearing a green Ionian-style dress, with the formfitting cut and high collar. Gold trim and sequins decorated the dress, and her silvery-blonde hair was up in a fancy bun, adorned with golden flowers. Fate wondered how she had gotten this far into the swamp in her sparkling strappy heels.

"So, here we are again," Fate said, "mind clueing us in as to what you're up to?"

She wordlessly produced two golden envelopes and offered them to Fate. "Here you go, as promised, two invitations to the Grand Gala for you and your friend. You will be special guests of mine, and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise." Her lidded eyes studied him, searching for a reaction.

Fate gave none—he had perfected his poker face after all. He took the two envelopes, glancing at the distinct Noxian seals before looking back at her. "What's the catch? Because we've been hearing—"

"No catch," She clarified, "You can go to the Gala and trick people out of their money to your hearts' content. I've even convinced some of the guards to look the other way if they see you. You can take whatever you win and leave. However….if you want something extra, like, say, a document of Noxian diplomatic immunity, then you might want to go above and beyond your usual." Her coy smile punctuated that sentence.

"What could you want with us that you couldn't do yourself?" Fate knew Graves would be coming, and had to talk fast.

"I want you to rig the games, in someone else's favor."

"Excuse me?"

A laugh trickled out of her mouth. "I want to ruin someone's night…one Senator Vuler. He will win, win, win…and then I want _him_ to be caught cheating."

"You want us to blow all our money to frame someone else?"

"I'll cover everything you would have won and more _and_ you get the documents of diplomatic immunity, which will get you out of most crimes in Noxus for free," She tosses two large silk bags of coins at his feet. "This should cover anything you need to gamble with. If you decide not to…well, good luck finding papers of immunity elsewhere."

Fate gazed at the bags as he grappled with himself. He could barely get Graves to agree to the Gala job in the first place, but this would be harder than any job they had _ever_ encountered…and they would be taking this _killer_ at her word that they would get their reward.

"Who're you?!" Graves suddenly called. He was pointing his revolver at the lady in green.

"Just giving a message," she replied calmly.

"Well get on outta here! This is private property!" Graves shouted, saying a flat lie. "You're not welcome here!"

Fate turns to Graves. "Calm down Malcolm," he put his hands out in an attempt to reason. "She's given us our invitations…here," he pulled them from his jacket pocket and showed the shiny envelopes.

Graves' gaze held onto the woman. "Well then she can get on out. Did you ever think for one second, she might not be alone? She could have backup! In the trees!"

The woman remained motionless. Fate tried to reason again. "Malcolm, put. The gun. _Down_."

Graves finally tore his scrutiny from the silver-blonde lady. "You moron! She's playing you for a fool! She could have a dozen daggers in that bosom of hers, hungry for your heart or _worse_ that magic bullshit you've been going on about! I'm gonna end it and—" As Graves and Fate turned to face the woman, they saw she had gone.

"Damnit!" Graves flung the gun down, causing it to misfire, the gunshot echoing through the noiseless marsh. "DAMNIT!"

"Malcolm, she's gone! Calm down!"

"Calm down? How can I be calm? When I'm strapped with a half-witted gyspy-muddled peabrain like YOU?!"

"She's gone! No harm done! You are the one bein' a moron!"

"Me? The one that's always trying to keep us safe, the one that always saves our skins, the one that LOOKS OUT FOR YOU FOR SOME DAMN REASON."

Graves rushed in, throwing things into messy piles, hooking the horse back up to the cart.

"What're you doin'?" Fate demanded.

"What does it look like?" hollered Graves as he plucked his gun from the muck, shoving it into his belt. "You're hellbent on gettin' to this Gala of your's and pulling the con of a lifetime or finishing some damn story or playing with your magic fairy friends or _whatever_. But I'll have no part in it anymore. I'm leavin'."

"Malcolm, you can't do that! We're a team! I _need_ you!"

"Well clearly you don't, cuz you keep throwing us into danger anyways, completely disregarding my advice."

Twisted Fate clenched his knuckles until they were white. "Well, you're advice is STUPID!"

Graves eyes narrowed, "_Excuse me?_"

"If you never take risks, you're not a con-man! The only reasons our hauls are as big as they are is because _I'm_ there, _I'm_ the one making sure you don't pussy out! You need to learn to _trust_ Lady Luck sometimes!" He grabbed the ace from his hat and showed it to Graves. "_Trust her!_"

Graves breathed heavily, catching his breath. He stared at the weathered old ace of spades in Fate's hand. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe in hogwash gypsy tales. I think for myself, and I think to survive. I'm done tryin' to do it for you, too." He climbed onto the cart and whipped the horse into action. Fate watched him drive slowly away.

"Yeah well…good riddance!" Fate called long after Graves had gone. He stuffed the ace back into his hat and made to collect the things he needed. "I don't need that prune…I don't need anybody." He heaved his pack onto his back. He fingered the cards in his jacket. "I've got Lady Lucky on my side!"


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Hope this has become exciting enough to hold your attention! As always, feedback and criticism welcome. This chapter has some surprises in store ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

The rickety, rough cart sounded like heaven to Fate as he yanked his boot out of the mud for the umpteenth time. Even in the cooling evening air, Fate was reaching up to wipe his brow every few minutes. The trip on foot had proved to be a grueling trek through the wilderness and hilly regions bordering the rival city-state limits. Fate wondered briefly how many Demacian and Noxians wars had happened on this spot and how much blood had been spilt on the very ground he was stepping. Then he thought of the assassin and her bloody smile, and pushed it out of his mind.

It didn't help that he had no company to help pass the time. His stomach jolted as he thought of the task he would have to do _without_ Graves. _Who needs him? _Fate thought angrily, _I'll find myself a new partner…a _better_ partner! I'll show that snake just what he's missing out on._ He patted the envelopes in his jacket pocket; they felt as if they grew heavier and heavier.

Twisted Fate felt relief in the shade of the woods he had just entered, glad for the break from the dry, dusty hills for a time. He stopped to rest on a nearby tree stump, pulling out a map of the area he had found at the house. Already, it was covered with his scribbles; he was using the map to figure out exactly what path he had taken and how it related to the assassin's path. Every route he could come up with made little sense; had the assassin been following them just by coincidence? It made sense up until just recently, when she took a huge detour to the Ironspike Mountains bordering Zaun and northern Noxus. What kind of magic much she possess to be able to travel all the way to the Mountains and then double back to their safehouse and still make it back to Noxus in time for the Gala? Fate knew there were few easy paths into the Mountains and the main one used for nearly all Zaun-Noxus trade and diplomatic travel was midway through the north border of the city-state of Noxus. Their safe house was just outside Noxus, nearly on the opposite point of the city-state from its capital; their little abode would have been a considerable detour.

Fate sighed and scratched his head, his hat pushed askew. He traced the rest of his path onto the map—he had decided, since he was traveling on foot, it would be quickest to cut through the wilderness until he encountered the main road that led straight to Noxus. The road had been built shortly after the young Institute of War had been established right in the center of Demacia and Noxus, and they requested both city-states make travel to their capital relatively easy. Thus, this main road was born, and it was used to the advantage of many. _Including con-men who need an easy way out,_ Fate chuckled to himself.

Fate placed the carefully folded map into his coat pocket, then, glancing at the sky to get his bearings, continued south through the wood. By evening time he should be nearing the main road, and then travel to Noxus would be easy. He might even be able to peddle for a horse on the way, to make the journey faster. Remembering he only had three days, Fate quickened his pace.

* * *

As darkness drew near, instead of stopping, Fate decided to only rest for some dinner, before continuing on through the night. He marched through the wood, looking for a good spot to set up camp. He found a clearing; the wood was sparse and let the light of the fading sun through and the clearing was marked with a massive statue. Fate guessed it was easily 12 feet tall, and admired how well-crafted it was. The stone was meticulously chiseled to form smooth muscles of the arms, and the man-shaped statue depicted wicked clawed feet and the head of a fanged beast. The statue held a spear, and he stood vigil with it over the quiet clearing. As Fate approached for a closer look, he wondered why a magnificent statue was in an area like this. The beast-man stood on a stone base; Fate noticed the words "Idol of Durand" etched into the base as he hopped up onto it.

_Makes a decent seat at least,_ Fate thought. He started up a campfire and pulled a can of beans from his pack. It was at this moment he remembered just how alone he was. It had been some time since he had no one to whine about his aches and pains to. For all that Graves was, he at least tolerated Fate's complaints and antics. He shook his head, reminding himself that Graves could be easily replaced. They both knew their partnership was temporary, after all. He was surprised they had stayed together such an extensive time, as con-men usually can't stay together for long before trying to scam out the other. Fate sighed.

"At least I've got you, Rocky," Fate called to the statue. It stared back with hollow eyes.

After hungrily slurping up the beans, Fate took the moment to rest and wait for nightfall to continue. He absentmindedly fiddled with his cards as his mind went back to his loneliness. It was times like these he wondered how long he could keep this up. For all Fate claimed about risk taking, he wasn't ready to die yet. He thought about the numerous wizened old gypsies he had grown up with; many of them had been as rambunctious as he in their youth, how did they manage to settle back down? Fate couldn't imagine returning to his natal group for good. But then again, did those geezers really settle down? Or were they simply there because that was their only choice, they were incapable of continuing their adventures? He flipped out the cards hiding in his sleeve, replacing the ones in his hand with ease. _A straight flush_, he observed, _Why do they call it that anyways?_

The more he thought about settling down, the more he didn't like the idea. There wasn't anything he'd rather be doing right now than using nothing but his wits and sleight of hand to get by, living well when he could, toughing it out other times. Graves was his polar opposite; he sometimes wondered how the old salty dog even tolerated being a con-man. Graves was waiting for that golden opportunity when he could finally settle down forever with a beautiful woman and a cabinet full of guns in case anyone bothered them.

Fate flipped his flush back into his sleeve and slipped out a 5 of hearts. Would Fate ever settle down with a woman? He tucked the 5 back into his jacket as his other hand reached for the ace in his hat. As he gazed at it, he wondered how much longer its luck would hold out.

The wind interrupted his thoughts as it ripped the card from his grasp. It twirled around the legs of the statue before settling behind it. Fate bolted after it, snatching it up where it landed.

"STATE YOUR BUSINESS." A voice suddenly boomed. Twisted Fate's head whipped up, only to be blinded by two glowing lights illuminating the now dark clearing.

He stared into the eyes of the statue he had taken refuge under. Its hollow eyes were now lit and glaring down on the card shark. Fate secured the ace in his hat calmly before responding.

"Just passing through."

"YOU ARE TRESSPASSING ON INSTITUTE PROPERTY. ALL CIVILIANS MUST USE THE PRIMARY ROAD TO ENTER AFTER SUNSET."

"Relax now, er, Durand, I'm leavin' now—"

"I AM NOT DURAND," stated the statue, "DURAND IS MY CREATOR. I AM THE PROTECTOR KNOWN AS TORASIL, CREATED TO BRAVELY DEFEND DEMACIA'S BORDERS FROM POTENTIAL THREATS."

"Oh a Demacian, eh?" Fate chortled, "Well then you wouldn't kill an innocent civilian like me then, would you?"

"NEGATIVE. MY ORDERS ARE TO DEFEND THESE BORDERS FROM ALL TRESSPASSERS. THE INSTITUTE OF WAR IS INTEGRAL TO MAINTAINING WORLD PEACE, AND MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS, EVEN AT THE EXPENSE OF YOUR LIFE."

Fate edged towards the other side of the clearing. "Well, then, I'll just be going then, wouldn't want to threaten world peace or none of that."

"I AM AFRAID I CAN'T LET YOU LEAVE. YOU HAVE TRESSPASSED, SO MUST BE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY. ONCE THEY HAVE QUESTIONED YOU, YOU MAY LEAVE."

"I don't have time for that!" Fate yelled. It was clear he made an error in navigation and ended up closer to the Institute than he had wanted. "Listen, old Tori boy, just let me off this one time—"

"IT IS REGRETABLE, BUT IF YOU DO NOT COOPERATE, I WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE VIOLENT ACTION. IT WILL NOT END WELL FOR YOU."

Fate's eyes darted around the area, searching desperately for an escape. _He's big. If I can be faster…_

Fate put his hands up in defeat. "You got me. I'll come with ya."

The golem nodded and began to kneel, reaching down at Fate with a clawed hand. At that moment, Fate dashed between the creature's legs and leapt over a large rock at the end of the glade, careening into the dark forest. The golem roared in displeasure, spinning around much faster than expected of a creature his size.

Fate rushed through the thicket blindly. Night had set in, and it was impossible to tell where he was going. But he could hear the thundering of the creature chasing behind him and wouldn't dare stop to try to figure out his location. He just plowed through the branches, tripping up on roots and getting cut but thorns along the way. _If I could just hide,_ he thought desperately, _If I could hold out until sunrise_.

He ran through a bush, careening off the hidden ledge on the other side. As he landed on his foot, he felt it twist painfully before falling over. He panicked, looking around at the darkness, his heart racing faster as he the roar of Torasil echoes through the wood. Finding the strength to pull himself up, he limps over to the thick roots covering the dirt walls of the ledge. Fate worked his way into a cove created by the roots, praying to Lady Luck this would hide him from the monster's bright gaze.

Dirt dusted him as the ledge trembled from the golems footfalls. He heard Torasil pause; Fate could do nothing but clutch his jacket close and lie still. Torasil plodded slowly towards the end of the ledge, before landing right in front of Fate's hiding spot. The golem scanned the surrounding wood slowly, as if processing every detail he could see. His scan passed over the roots, pausing. Light streamed onto the gypsy's face through the various spaces, and Fate held his breath. Torasil slowly turned, completing his scan. He crouched his massive girth close to the ground, putting a hand on the dirt. _Shit! Please be no footprints…_

The golem's head perked up when a murder of crows in the distance all fluttered away, cawing eerily in silent night. Torasil walked towards the sound, weapon at the ready, and disappeared between the trees.

Fate finally took in a breath. Despite the absence of immediate danger, his heart still threatened to burst from his ribcage. As he caught his breath, he grinned despite himself.

* * *

Twisted Fate lost track of time under those roots, and once the adrenaline left him, he started to wish someone was there to bellyache to again. He was sore all over, his left ankle throbbed uncomfortably—he was sure he sprained it—and on top of that, he had little time to spare and it was slipping away. Fate began uttering quiet curses to himself. His stomach growled in response, and he realized he no longer had his backpack as well.

_Just perfect. Only three days left to get to Noxus and Rocky can't just let me leave._

After what he guessed were several hours, Fate carefully pried himself from the root system. He tried out his left ankle, but pain streaked up his entire leg when he put weight on it. He limped through the dark forest, barely making it past the tree line before finding another ledge, this time one leading to his certain doom. He hissed yet another curse, peering over the edge; the cliff was a sheer drop, about thirty feet below he saw nothing but rocky ground. He was about to turn around when his injured ankle gave out and he tumbled towards the edge.

Fate yelped and flung his hands out to prevent him from plummeting over the end. His hands landed on soft dirt just as his back-end left the cliff. His weary shoulders strained to hold his weight up. Fate kicked out his feet wildly, but the cliff offered no footholds to help pull him back up. His fingers clutched at the dirt urgently, but try as he might, Twisted Fate slid further and further off solid ground until he was dangling only by his hands. The thin edge began to crumble under his weight.

_Just my luck tonight_, Fate thought. As the edge crumbled away, he quickly grabbed a root off of the cliff face, clinging for dear life.

_I'm gonna make it out of this_, he told himself, _Twisted Fate always lucks out…right?_ His reassurances did nothing for his sore fingers, clutching the branch. He attempted to pull himself up, but to no avail; His body was weak from the journey and the chase. It was all he could do to keep from the deathly fall. To make matters worse, he heard the distinct thud of golem footsteps nearby. He closed his eyes as he felt his grip weakening. _Guess I don't have to worry about settling down…_

A hand reached out and snatched Twisted Fate's sleeve just as his hand released the root. With disbelief, Fate clutched the arm and looked up at a grisly face with a rough beard and angry brown eyes.

"Damnit Fate, I can't leave you for a second, can I?"

"Malcolm!"

The salty dog smiled as he reached for Fate's other hand. "C'mon, up and at'em."

With some effort, Graves heaved his weary partner back onto solid ground. "Malcolm, how'd you find me?"

"You ain't that hard of a man to figure out, Fate. I knew you'd take the straightest, fastest path, even though it was the stupidest. Lucky you didn't end up in the Institute, ya got really close—"

"GRAVES!" Fate warned as he saw the golem emerge from the shadowy forest. The sky was turning gray with early morning light and Fate could see clearly the creature's red spear, poised at the pair.

Graves turned around, pulling out his revolver and pointing it at Torasil.

"THIS MAN IS WANTED FOR TRESSPASSING ON INSTITUTE PROPERTY. HE MUST BE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY."

"Guess ya _did_ get too close!"

Torasil approached them; he knew they were trapped, with only empty space behind them to run to. Graves fired his gun; both shots ricocheted off the golem's shoulders and didn't seem to slow his progress towards them.

"Damnit!" Graves cursed, still aiming despite the weapon's clear ineffectiveness.

"RESISTANCE IS POINTLESS. IF YOU WILL NOT GO QUIETLY, I WILL USE VIOLENT FORCE. IT WILL NOT END WELL FOR YOU."

Fate glanced at the edge just behind them. He looked back at the golem. "Well, then come and get us!"

"Fate, what in the hell are you doin'!?"

Fate lowered his voice to a whisper, "Trust me Graves. Be ready to move."

"VERY WELL." Torasil began to charge, shaking the whole forest. His spear headed straight towards the partners to skewer them both.

"JUMP!" Fate yelled, and grabbing Graves, jumped off the cliff. He once again dangled off the root, with Graves now dangling below him. The dirt cliff above them crumbled under the golem's enormous weight, but the root hung tightly to the side. The golem fell past them, tumbling to the ground and crashing into pieces.

"Woo!" Fate called, looking down at the rumble that was once Torasil.

"DAMNIT FATE! Damnit, damnit, damnit!" Graves scrambled up the root past Fate, yanking the gypsy up once he was on solid ground.

"Are you nuts!?" accused Graves.

Fate began laughing uncontrollably: Laughing hard and long. It made his sore stomach cramp painfully. He took his hat off and kissed the ace on it.

"I guess you are…"

"Malcolm…I could kiss ya, you old salty dog!"

"Please don't."

Fate settled for a hysteric pat on the back as he continued laughing. "How'd you catch up?"

"I was on horseback, heard you yell though and rushed to see the commotion. Easier to travel without the horse through these woods."

Fate caught his breath and adjusted his hat back onto his head. "Let's get to it then, we got a Gala to get to!"

He limped forward unsuccessfully, Graves just managing to catch him before he collapsed on his hurt ankle. "Lordy, Fate, I wasn't gone for _that_ long!"

Using Graves as support, they limped through the gray forest, now misty with the morning dew settling in.

"What made you follow me?" Fate asked after a while.

Graves grumbled. "Er…well, ya know…con of a lifetime and all that."

"Okay, so what's the real reason?"

"Does it matter?" Graves snapped. "I saved your ass again! That's all that matters!"

"Just wonderin'. Thought we were done, was all."

Silence settled between them as they saw the horse—the very one that had been pulling their cart—tied to a tree. Graves let Fate lean on the trunk as he got the horse ready. "Look if you must know, I—SHIT!"

A knife suddenly sprouted from the trunk right where Graves' head had been moments before. Out of nowhere, gold-armored men melded out of the trees—Noxian soldiers. Fate felt a knife press against his throat from behind.

"Don't move," hissed a woman's voice from behind him.

* * *

**Cliffhanger! Also I just noticed how useless Graves' gun has been. He needs ole Destiny! XD**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The mystery woman called to Graves, "Drop any weapons!"

Graves glared at her, but took the gun from his belt slowly, tossing it on the floor and raising his hands. Fate saw the knife woman motion with her free hand to one of the soldiers. "Search him."

The soldier patted Graves roughly, pulling out a cigar box and dumping his cigars on the ground.

"Hey watch it! Those are Kumungu stogies! Expensive!"

"I demand to know why we've stopped," a man trilled as he walked onto the scene. He was in a dark green suit with gold trim that many Noxian nobles wore. The man wore a monocle tight in his left eye, and had well-groomed black hair peppered with gray. A rapier was fastened to his belt. "What's all this?"

"Senator, we found these suspicious men near the road. They might have been trying to ambush us," the woman explained.

The Senator adjusted his monocle as he examined the bedraggled duo. "Hm, yes. Carry on then. We are getting impatient."

"Search this one too," the woman ordered. Fate finally got a view of her as she went to speak to Graves.

She had flaming red hair down to her back, and Fate wasn't sure how they had missed her before. Her stomach was exposed, and she had a half-jacket with a high-collar on. Numerous knives and daggers hung from her belt and further on around her tight pants. Her face was pretty—if a little serious—except for the scar that marked her left eye.

"What are you two doing here?" she barked at Graves.

"Only travelers, ma'am. Nothing more."

"Then why were you hidden on the side of the road? Were you waiting to get the jump on the Senator?"

"No ma'am. Just passing through." Fate was impressed by Graves' unflinching face, as the woman's cold stare was unnerving, as were all her blades.

The soldier patted Twisted Fate, causing many of his cards to tumble out of their various hiding places. The soldier reached into his jacket and began rummaging through his pockets, pulling out even more playing cards.

"You expect to believe you're just travelers? Why are you so roughed up?" she indicated their rugged appearance, from Fate's limp to Graves' face papercut.

"Just the trials of the road ma'am," Fate replied.

"I was not talking to you," she snapped. "Now then…where are you travelling exactly?"

"Lieutenant!" the soldier called. He had discovered the two envelopes in Fate's pocket and waved them aloft.

"Why, our invitations," Fate explained, "We're headed for the Grand Gala."

"You two? The Gala?" the woman said incredulously. She snatched the envelopes and studied the distinctly Noxian seals. She frowned.

"Let me have a look, Lieutenant," the Senator said. She handed him one of the envelopes.

"Where did you get these?" the lieutenant demanded to Fate

"In the mail I s'pose. Same as everyone."

She scowled at him. The Senator peeled open the seal and pulled out the parchment within. He adjusted his monocle over the page.

"Hm…Lieutenant, you might want to have a look at this."

The red-head marched over and took the paper and envelope from the man's gloved hands. Her eyes darted over the paper, her brow furrowing more as she went.

"It says here you are a guest of the DuCouteau family," she stated, "Is this true?"

"Yes ma'am," Fate answered quickly, "_Ms_. DuCouteau, to be exact."

"So, you aren't a guest of my father?" she pressed.

Fate thought he could hear Graves gulp, but his poker face was otherwise maintained. Fate's countenance held fast as well. "No, ma'am. Just Ms. DuCouteau." Fate prayed his answer was not shooting himself in the foot. _A gamble now and then is needed,_ he reminded himself.

The woman seemed unsatisfied with their answer, but the Senator stepped forward before she could say anything further. "Well, then, you won't mind an official Noxian escort then, will you?"

"Senator—"

"No, no Katarina, I insist," he retorted loudly, then leaned in close so Fate just barely caught his words. "If they _are_ assassins, I'd much rather keep them in sight than risk a sneak attack again." He turned to the pair. "Stand down, guard, stand down, now. I'm Senator Wilfred Vuler. And you are…?"

"Malcolm Graves," Graves offered, "This here is Twisted Fate."

"Charmed, charmed, it appears this open invitation belongs to _you_ Mr. Graves…yes there you are, and Ms. DuCouteau the other—" Katarina begrudgingly hands over the envelope "—yes very good. Now we'll get Mr…er, Mr. Fate all fixed and be on our way. We must get moving, no time for pleasantries I'm afraid. Chip-chop!"

He clapped his hands and the guard ushered Graves and Fate onto the road. Katarina groaned and rolled her eyes. Fate thought he heard her mutter something about "Protection detail."

They stepped onto the gray flagged-stone pavement and into a mass of horses and a large, golden carriage. A woman's head poked out of the open door. "Wilfred, dear, will we be moving soon? We've barely left the Institute."

"Yes dear. False alarm was all. These gentlemen will be traveling with us now…" He introduced the pair.

"Oh dear…" was all she uttered, and with a worried look on her face, and then tucked back into the cab.

"Excuse my wife," the Senator reassured, "Had a bit of a….well, a bit of a scare recently. Ms. DuCouteau has been so nice as to escort us to Noxus for the Gala. We usually live in the Institute you see." A rustle under the carriage sounded and in the blink of an eye, Vuler whipped his rapier out towards one of the carriage wheels. A squeal sounded and they saw a squirrel that was darting for the forest flop over with a slice in his belly.

"Oh, only an animal," the Senator said briefly. "Onward then!" He climbed into the soft-looking cab and shut the door behind him. Fate and Graves exchanged a weighty glance.

A soldier brought them their horse. "You'll have to both ride it. We don't have any more horses."

A woman emerged from the carriage. "Be careful darling!" Fate heard the wife call.

This woman was much younger than the one from before. She was wearing a dark green petticoat and a fur hat, with thick black hair spilling out from underneath. "Who's the injured fellow?" she asked.

Graves jerked his head wordlessly toward Fate. "My left ankle is sprained, ma'am," he told her.

She nodded, helping him to sit down while a nervous Katarina along with several guards hovered close. The woman placed her hands on the ankle, and they briefly glowed. Fate could feel his ankle grow very warm, almost uncomfortably so. Then the heat faded, and his ankle was no longer sore. The woman asked for bandages and then wrapped up his ankle.

"You should rest it for a while longer, but it should be better by tomorrow," she said.

"Was that…magic?"

She smiled. "You're interested in magic?"

"A little…"

"Alright, back in the carriage ma'am, we're moving on," Katarina interrupted.

Graves helped Twisted Fate onto the horse as the young lady strode towards the carriage. She froze on the steps, looking back at him. "I heard your name was 'Twisted Fate'?" she inquired.

"Yes, ma'am."

She giggled. "Perhaps I can tell you some about magic, Twisted Fate?"

"That would be delightful," Fate smiled.

The lady giggled once more before ducking back through the door. Graves jolted the horse forward as he mounted the horse. Fate's hands prevented him from toppling off. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," he grunted, sounding not sorry at all. He mumbled, "Since when do you say 'delightful' loverboy?"

The caravan grinded slowly into motion, as Katarina shouted orders here and there, taking her place at the head of the group.

"This is gonna be a trip," Graves groaned.

"Sure beats walking," Fate told him.

* * *

Though the escort moved slowly, it proved to be safe and still faster than walking. At least twice, the caravan was jumped by bandits, but Katarina made short work of them. Fate pondered if the other soldiers ever got bored, since their lieutenant seemed to do all the hard work.

"What you'd expect of the Sinister Blade," Graves rumbled.

"Sinister what now?" Fate asked.

"She's one of Noxian's golden boys…er, girls," he said. "Ain't you never heard of her? She's a champion in the League."

"Champion…" Fate said with awe.

"They must be real worried about this Vuler fella to put her in charge," Graves mentioned.

Fate lowered his voice, "Speaking of Vuler, that's the guy _she_ wants us to rig to win. Get him into trouble."

"They did say they had gotten into trouble recently," Graves pointed out. "Maybe the assassin tried and failed and now they're wary of a second attack. She's using us as an alternate means."

Fate scratched his beard, leaning his back against Graves' back. He gazed at the carriage window behind the horse, seeing the woman from earlier. She gave a small wave, and Fate tipped his hat in return. "It just doesn't add up, Malcolm," he continued softly, "We're winning him money, not killin' 'em."

Graves shrugged. "Seems this guy can sure take care of himself. Not like that other dignitary…you know, the one with _her_."

"Yeah, but that was a Demacian noble. This here is a _Noxian_ noble," his thoughts wandered to the squirrel bleeding on the ground. "They get ace-high because of skill, not birthright."

"And that lil' twinkie, can magic up things," Graves mentioned uneasily.

"We'll stay alert," Fate assured.

Graves heaved a sigh. "Out of the frying pan…"

Fate spent most of the trip making card tricks to the window for the "twinkie's" amusement. Fate was elated that she was so easily amused, and hoped her amusement would translate into questions about magic; Fate had rather _specific_ types of questions in mind.

"You two," Katarina pulled her horse to a trot next to their's.

"What can I do ya for?" Graves asked.

"Senator Vuler has agreed to letting you travel with us, but don't think for a second you can let your guard down. I'm watching you _very_ closely, and if it turns out your invitations are fake, I will not hesitate to kill you."

"Understood," Graves grunted, "Anything else? Are we not allowed to sneeze or somethin'?"

"I mean it," she threatened, "We'll be stopping to camp for the night. In the meantime, don't fall behind. Hiyaa!" She urged her horse to gallop to the head of the group again, her threat now delivered.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Glad to be getting some other champions in there…and ones that are actually champions at the time too! Time for another exciting chapter. Please review!**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Night surprised Twisted Fate once again with its swiftness, and soon enough, Katarina made the call to set up camp. The soldiers rapidly erected several large tents, while the rest of them assembled the smaller shelters they would be staying in.

"We don't have any tents for you. You're on your own, just stay in sight," one of the guards ordered, "The Lieutenant _will_ catch up with you if you try to escape."

"I'm sure she will," Graves retorted. He collected branches and twigs and piled them. "Mind gettin' this lit while I make supper?"

Fate took out his matches and the pair had a well-earned smoke break as they watched the soldiers mill about. The Vuler family was out of sight (_probably by Katarina's design,_ Fate thought), and Fate hoped the lady would seek him out later that night. In the meantime, he munched on his fried eggs and potatoes and enjoyed the rest he was finally getting. They were about halfway to Noxus capital, and he suspected they could get there by the afternoon. Fate sighed, hoping they had enough time to clean up and look presentable for the Grand Gala.

"I'm turning in early," Graves announced. He laid his bedroll some feet away from their fire and flopped asleep almost immediately. Fate listened to his partner's snores as he watched the soldiers dish out their stew from a large pot. They shouted at each other periodically, until Fate could no longer see them, and assumed they had retired to their tents. _I oughta turn in, too_.

He closed his eyes, leaning back against a log, pushing his hat over his eyes. He hadn't slept the night before, and the sleepiness was catching up to him. His eyes quickly grew heavy…

"Psst! Mr. Fate!" somebody whispered, "Are you still awake?"

He bolted upright, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He turned to the voice, which belonged to the healer from earlier. "I'm awake," Fate clarified.

The lady looked even more beautiful in the dim firelight, her soft black hair melding with the midnight colors around her. She had a long, loose braid around her shoulder and stepped carefully in her white night gown.

"I was afraid you had forgotten about me," She said quietly.

"You? Never," Fate grinned. "You know I never got your name…"

"Umabel," she said, "Where did you learn all those card tricks?"

"Well, kinda just picked 'em up as a kid," he stated simply. He flipped out a hand of cards and offered them to her. "Pick a card."

Umabel scrunched her nose in thought, delicately pointing to the one on the far left. Fate coaxed her to take it, and she rubbed the card between her fingers.

"Now, I'll put my hat over my eyes, and you hide your card, ok?"

She nodded excitedly. Fate covered his eyes and shut them tight. After a moment, her voice trilled, "Ok, all set."

Twisted Fate adjusted his hat and rolled up his sleeves. "Alright, I have to say the magic words—" Umabel giggled "Toadstools, grass and pickled eels, find the card behind her ears!" He reached for Umabel's pale ear, brushing it slightly as he "pulled" out a 2 of spades. "Was this your card?"

Umabel's laugh trilled once again. She clapped softly. "Very good Mr. Fate, I had no idea you were a magician."

He waved a hand. "Ah, well, that's not _real_ magic. I'm sure you know much more than me."

"Well…I suppose I do."

"C'mon, I bet you're the best healer in all Noxus," Fate winked.

Umabel blushed. "Oh, I don't know about _that_, but I _do_ know quite a bit."

"Tell me about it," Fate requested. He admired the way her eyes lit up as she explained the very basics of magic.

"Well, having natural ability helps, and if you don't, you really have to have some sort of relic or other source of power. And on top of that, learning to control your magic—_especially_ if you are born with it—takes years of practice and meditation. It's _really_ important too, because unrestrained magic can absolutely wreak havoc around that person."

"What about different kinds of magic? Is there some that blows sh—_things_ up and some that heals and some that…makes ya fly?"

She snickered. "There are many kinds…most have to do with where you're from or what kind of relic you have. Although, I've never heard about someone who could _fly_."

"What about…getting from one place to another, in no time. Like teleportation?"

"Mr. Fate, you ask such weird questions," she put a finger to her mouth in thought. "Well…summoners can summon things from one place to another, even people! But they need huge sources of power, a Nexus. It's not a very common thing."

"I was just curious. I hear about magic all the time, ya know," he winked at her, "You have a way with teaching me, Miss Umabel."

Umabel flushed red once again. "Oh, you flatterer. I'm more interested in _your_ brand of magic. You learned it as a youth?"

Fate nodded. "My parents were gypsies, see. Gypsies know a thing or two about cards. Especially playing cards."

"How fascinating," she enthused, leaning forward, "I've never met a gypsy before!"

"Well, keep looking," Fate told her, "I don't exactly live by their ways anymore. Nope, I was born and raised a gypsy, nothing more."

"Do you not like it?"

Fate shrugged. "Just like any other life style, it becomes mundane, I s'pose. Traveling around in carts painted to make us seem all magic-like when really we don't know a lick about magic…can get tirin' too."

"It all sounds so exciting to me."

Fate shifted his gaze from the fire to Umabel. "You know what sounds excitin' to me? Livin' with no worry of money and gettin' to learn about _real_ magic. Ya never want for nothin', and you get to use one of the most powerful things on Runeterra…and not just pretend to."

Umabel tilted her head. "My life's not all that great. I don't have _any_ adventure and it can be dreadfully dull." She scrunched her nose. "Do you think you'll ever return to the gypsies? Or will you settle down someplace else?"

Fate returned to staring at the flames. "Can we change the subject?"

"Oh," her face fell, "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"Nah, don't worry about it none," they sat staring at the dim coals of the fire. "One more question…about magic," he began.

"Hm?" she said absentmindedly.

"What about…using magic as a weapon? Like _only_ magic."

"You mean, like energy bolts?"

"More like…ripping or tearing to shreds."

She seemed surprised at this. She postured uneasily, "Oh…I dunno. I've never heard of anything like that, but that doesn't mean it…doesn't exist, I suppose." Her face looked uncomfortable, and she quickly rose from her seat beside the log. "It's late, I should let you rest."

"Wait!" he hissed, "Do you think the Senator—your father that is—do you think he should worry about any magic users…?"

Her face fell. "Is that what this is all about? Finding out about my _father_ and his…._political dealings?_"

Fate stood up rapidly, although instantly regretted it when his ankle throbbed as a reminder he shouldn't walk. "It's not like that at all…" he spluttered. He instantly knew that he had showed too much of his hand. _C'mon Fate, don't be so dumb_, he reprimanded himself for making a rookie mistake. "It's just…we've been hearing about assassinations all over the area! I was curious if the assassin was…well magic. Like I've heard of the Vilhellos murders—two nights in a row! And this one tiny town with a boy guard—"

Umabel burst into tears and scurried off into the darkness. Despite Fate's quiet calls for her to calm down, he couldn't get her to stay. She vanished into the row of tents before him.

He sighed, sitting back down by his log slowly. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he had definitely learned some things either way. Was he closer to discovering this assassin?

He drifted into sleep, thinking not of pleasant Umabel with her infectious laugh, but the sly, bloody grin of the maid in Clearborne.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The morning greeted the party with a miserable drizzle. Fate's ankle was stiff, but he found he could walk with no trouble. He and Graves broke camp quickly and were waiting impatiently on their horse while the guards moved at what felt like a sluggish pace.

"Guess they've never known what it's like to have to get away in a hurry," Graves commented, punctuating his statement with a draw on his cigar.

Fate simply sat with his lit cigarette hanging from his mouth limply. He scanned the mass of guards and finally spotted Umabel emerge from one of the large tents. She wore a black traveling cloak, and her eyes avoided Twisted Fate at all costs. On top of that, she was never alone, between all the guards and her mother fussing over her at all times. Fate sighed, letting out a moist puff of breath that had nothing to do with the cigarette.

Other than the guards bumbling around camp, the morning's events consisted of Katarina shouting a whole lot and tossing knives at several "suspicious" birds that never had a chance.

"Let's go, let's get moving!" she ordered, "I want to be at Noxus before noon, do you understand me?"

The group finally plodded onward through the gray, misty day. The trip was uneventful, though the road began filling up with various other travels as they approached the vicinity of Noxus. This is where being escorted came in handy, as the travelling party easily waded through the crowds by sheer prestige. They passed everyone from lesser nobles to merchants to farmers with their crops. Fate even spotted a gypsy caravan, their purple wagons dangling with baubles and trinkets. He hoped he didn't know any of them.

Fate kept glancing back at Umabel's window, but she never appeared. He had wanted to apologize, but that seemed unlikely as they drew nearer to Noxus.

"You got anything to drink Malcolm?"

"Nothing that'd get you drunk," Graves told him, "What's eatin' ya Fate, you oughta be happier than a termite at a saw mill; we're near to Noxus already."

Fate started mumbling, "That girl, Umabel, came to talk to me last night."

"Hoo, boy," Graves moaned, "Fate…please tell me you didn't…_do_ anything."

"Naw nothing like that just…she got mad at me."

"Ya know Fate, I really wish you'd pull in your horns sometimes. You can't help but look to get into trouble."

"Look it's about…" Fate looked around cautiously. He leaned back, closer to Graves. "I think I might have some information on _her_."

"The girl knew things?" Graves asked.

"No, but she knew about magic—"

"Dear lord…"

"—and I narrowed down some possibilities. _She_ ended up near Zaun, right? Then back in Howling Marsh? Well, both flying and teleportation are rare or impossible. Umabel never heard of flyin' and teleportation is summoner magic—meanin' you need one of them power crystals."

Graves grunted. "How does that help us?"

"Well, we narrowed it down see? _She_ is either a summoner, or she has some sort of other magic. _And_ apparently to use magic, ya need to be born with it, _or_ you need a special item…a relic-type."

"Ya lost me Fate," Graves stated. "I don't know why you can't just go with the flow for now. Our job ain't to capture _her_."

Fate sat up. "Malcolm Graves? Goin' with the flow?"

Graves shrugged. "I don't mind it if the flow is headed the right direction. We can't get into no trouble with _Blade Lady_ around."

He nodded towards Katarina, who was suddenly barking at a soldier who had broken formation around the caravan. His face was as red as his superior officer's hair. Fate smiled.

"Poor fella never stood a chance."

* * *

As they rolled through Noxus' gates at last the rain began steadily for an afternoon shower. The pair—afraid to break off from the group prematurely—cantered up besides Katarina's horse.

"So what's the plan, Ginger?" Graves shouted. "You want us gone yet?"

She rolled her eyes, but remained staring straight ahead. "You'll accompany us to the Noxian Palace. Then you'll wait while I do some checks on you two."

"How long'll that take?" Graves asked.

"As long as it needs to," she spat back. Her eyes narrowed, "Now get back in line before I change my mind about killing you."

Graves growled in return, then pulled back on the reigns to meld with the group once again.

They made their way slowly through the dark streets of Noxus. Twisted Fate had been here many times before and always remembered Noxus having a distinct flavor. The denizens were some of the most varied in all of Valoran; strange hags that sold bubbling potions stood along the streets, mercenaries of all shapes and sizes glared at you with scarred faces, pretty women with busty shapes threw alluring glances every way and thieves—hidden cleverly among them—lie in wait for every opportunity. And yes, the con-men; Fate remembered out-conning countless others in many of the numerous taverns in Noxus.

The dark pavement leads them from the shambles of the lower quarter to the gothic houses of the upper quarter. Climbing the steep incline upon which the Palace perched, they saw the high steeples grow in size as they passed mansions of Noxus' most valued citizens, mostly warriors and political officials (often one in the same).

At last, the tall dark marble columns stretched above everything else, marking their arrival to Noxian Palace. Fate knew that within dwelled some of the most powerful—and most feared—individuals in all Valoran. High command of Noxus were most comfortable when they stood above others less able than they, both literally and figuratively.

The caravan continued under the pillars, into the entrance area. When Graves urged their horse to follow, Katarina pulled hers in front of them.

"You stay here," she ordered. She nodded to a pair of guards who came up and took point on either side of Fate and Graves.

As the carriage pulled past, Fate searched the window for any glance he could get with Umabel. Through the pane, pelted by droplets, he could make out her pale face, peering up at the intimidating palace. He caught her gaze for only a moment, and as he did, he tipped his hat; he hoped she would interpret that as an apology. She merely returned to looking sadly at her destination.

Graves lit a cigar as they waited, seemingly unconcerned with the situation.

"Why aren't you more nervous?" Fate asked.

"You're always tellin' me to relax. So I'm relaxed," he countered.

"It's just not like you, is all. Any other day you'd be biting your nails about what could happen."

Graves shrugged. "We're in Noxus now. It's easy to disappear in a city like this. All it takes is an unexpected gallop and we're deep into the city."

"What about that Katarina?" Fate pointed out.

"I'll be looking for her reaction when she comes out. That woman has a terrible poker face," Graves noted. He blew smoke into the rainy air.

Sure enough, Katarina returned nearly an hour later, on foot this time. She must have had a grumpy expression, because Graves made no attempt to make a break for it. _She really wanted to kill us,_ Fate chuckled to himself.

As she approached, Katarina waved the guards off. "Well, it looks like you boys check out after all. In fact, arrangements have been made for a rented house for you to stay in. Isn't that just—" she gave the pair an annoyed smirk "—_peachy?_"

"Well, thank you for the escort ma'am," Graves said in mock appreciation, "We'll be heading off now."

"Oh, but the escort hasn't ended, has it?" Katarina fingered a dagger on her belt. She gave Graves a menacing look. "I have yet to get you to your destination."

The two men glanced at each other. Neither of them wanted to gamble on this, not when they were so close.

"Lead the way then," Fate replied.

"Excellent," Katarina sneered, and she turned on her heel and headed back into the mansion district.

They took a mere five minutes before the red-head stopped them at a tall, black house with red shutters. The short lawn was closed in by an iron fence and upon the door an insignia of a dagger with a snake wrapped around it was etched in the dark cherry wood.

"Here you are boys," Katarina flung the gate open with a flick of the knife she held in her hand. "_Enjoy your stay_." As she strolled away, to make her point perfectly clear, she flipped them off behind her back.

"I would _not_ want to work with her on a regular basis," Graves stated.


	13. Chapter 12

**Author's note: Good news! The story is completely written and wrapping up nicely. It's only a matter of time before I get all the chapters posted. I won't post them all at once, but know that they should continue to be posted with relative frequency. In the meantime, enjoy Chapter 12!**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Twisted Fate and Graves were thankful for the day of rest they were granted that day and the following. The tub in the house received heavy usage, as both men were cold and grimy when they entered the house. Fate groomed his facial hair easily while Graves had a tough time combating the jungle that had grown on his face. Once the pair had gotten their beards to a manageable size, they quickly discovered the house was well-stocked with alcohol. The two delved deep into the substantial mead stock and sat down to lay out a plan.

"Naw, that's not right," Graves declared. "I still got a straight. What did you get?"

"Two pair," Fate grunted.

"But _you're_ supposed to be Vuler, I'm supposed to get _you_ the cards to win."

"I thought you was Vuler."

"Wha…no I'm _you_ I'm pulling the fast one to get you to win—"

"Well then if you're me, where are you?"

Graves groaned. "Look, just…_I'll_ be Vuler ok? You be you, and you gotta get _me_ to win."

They deal another round, and place their bets.

"Alright, what'd you get?" Graves asked.

Fate took a drag from his cigarette. "Two pair."

"Alright, I got a straight."

Fate sighed. "I don't think this'll work with more 'n just the two of us. Even if we both work the game there's gonna be at least one other hoo-ha dealin', maybe more. Plus Vuler won't know to switch cards," he took another drag, "We have to deal 'em right, we can't switch out the cards once they're in his hand, not like _we_ can do."

Graves looked intently at his 9 of spades. He sat thinking while Fate reclined with his drink. "We have to make sure to stack the deck then."

"You gotta shuffle it just right," Fate pointed out.

Graves regressed back to silent thought just as Fate drained his mug of mead.

"I'm gettin' a beer," Fate announced.

Graves merely grunted.

* * *

Fate strolled down to the market nearby. It was bustling with activity as fish were tossed hither and tither, peddlers shouted about their sparkling products, and customers milled in front of the colorful stalls. Fate ambled down an alley before finding what he was looking for: a liquor store. He walked over the uneven pavement past some kids huddled on the ground. The door tingled open as he entered.

The walls were lined with shelves top to bottom. Every available space was filled with a bottle of some kind; some were bright and inviting, others dark and foreboding—A drink for every occasion. There were already two men at the counter, and the short clerk with a pencil moustache appeared flustered at their arrival.

"Damn gypsies! You'll run my customers out of here! Away with you!"

"Look, pard, we only want these here bottles and we're outta here."

The two men were wearing ragged button-up shirts with vests over top. Their long hair was braided with seashells, and on top of that rested wide-brimmed, high crowned straw hats. Their tan faces lit animatedly as they spoke.

_Oh great. I have to hide my accent now_, Fate remembered.

"_Excuse_ me, sir," he started, struggling with his words. "Would you happen to have a keg _of_ beer?" He grinned slightly. "Er, _please._"

The grump of a store owner gave one last glare before turning around and heaving a large barrel onto the counter. "Twenty-five gold. Do you want me to have it delivered?"

"Naw—er, no sir. This is all."

Fate quickly dished out the coins, heaved the keg onto his shoulder and nodded to the store owner before sauntering out. A tingle of the bell sounded as he exited back onto the rough stone streets.

The kids he had passed earlier were now screeching with excitement. They had the same tan skin and dark hair of the two gypsies in the liquor store.

"Aww, Sapphire Beam won again…" one of the boys moaned.

The girl who had apparently won simply smiled. "Play again?"

"I'll beat her," one tall boy said, "Ain't no way she's gonna luck out agin."

Fate sat his keg down and leaned in. He saw the kids collect yellowing dice into wooden cups. They shook them up rapidly and out they rolled. Fate smiled as he noticed they were betting pieces of candy, piled in the center of their circle. The two boys groaned as they watched Sapphire Beam's dice roll out, one teetering on its corner before falling in place.

"No way!" The tall boy yelled, "Sapphire agin?!"

"What're y'all playin'?" Fate asked.

"Poker dice," one of the smaller boys replied. His face was smeared with dirt.

Fate observed the kids play another round, and saw once again Sapphire beat them by a hair, the last die wobbling on an edge before falling in her favor. The group exploded into outrage again as she scooped in her winnings.

"Bye bye, y'all," she said coyly as she gathered her dice and scampered off.

Fate leaped up to catch her just out of earshot of the other children, now arguing over what they should do now that they were candy-less. "Hold up darling…lemme see your dice."

The girl looked terrified as she stared up at Fate. "I'm sorry," he clarified, "_please_ lemme see you dice."

The girl trembled as she held up her cup for him to see. He plucked one out, knelt down and rolled it on the flagged-stones. It came up an "Ace." He smirked as he rolled it once more: an Ace.

He looked up at the little girl—her messy brown hair ran to her shoulders and she nervously crumpled her russet dress in her hands. "These are loaded, aren't they?"

She rubbed a worn shoe on one of her striped stockings, nodding slowly.

Fate burst into a grin. He tossed the die back into her cup and handed it back to her. "Just be careful with that luck, ya hear?" He winked.

She nodded with a small smiled, and scampered down the alley.

Fate heaved his keg back onto his shoulder and continued his hike back to the house. Though he didn't miss the gypsy life, he was glad to see some were still children poised to become the next wild-child. He was even more delighted that a little girl had out-witted all those boys. He wondered how she had come into the possession of loaded dice…

_Hm,_ he pondered, _Loaded dice…_

He suddenly vaulted into a sprint, running the rest of the path up to the house. Fate burst through the cherry door. "MALCOLM, I'VE GOT IT."

Fate placed the keg on the bar before excitedly doling out two mugs of beer. Graves still sat, shuffling through a deck of cards and periodically staring at one of them. He jolted as Twisted Fate slammed a beer on the table in front of him.

Fate sat down and leaned close. "Craps."

Graves' brow scrunched. "What'd you do this time?"

"Huh? No, I mean _Craps_, not poker! We've been trying to do this with poker the whole time but with Craps…dice can be replaced easily, it exchanges hand all the time—"

Graves rubbed his temples. "Whoa whoa, wait. We're _not_ using poker?"

"Look Malcolm, I passed these kids, and there was this little girl—"

"Oh no," Graves groaned.

"Not like _that_ ya old salty dog! She was using dice! Loaded dice!"

"We haven't used loaded dice in years! We decided sticking to cards was easier. I don't even wanna remember what happened last we play craps…"

"Yeah but this time, we're not riggin' for us to win, we're riggin' for someone else," Fate pointed out. "Think you can get us some loaded dice to practice?"

Graves put his hand to his chin. "I don't know _why _I stick around you Fate," he complained.

"You can't get 'em?"

"It's Noxus!" Graves shouted angrily, "O' course I can get 'em!"

* * *

Graves haggled with the Yordle for the 4th time in ten minutes. His short stature disguised his shrewd bartering technique.

"These can't be found elsewhere…extremely rare…the _exact_ kind of dice they use in Noxian Palace," he rattled off the benefits once again. His squeaky voice only proved to annoy Graves further.

"Look, get it through your thick furry head, I only have 2 grand to spend," Graves barked, "Take it or leave it."

The Yordles carefully wrapped the dice in an oil cloth, clutching them in his fuzzy black hands. "Well," he adjusted his glasses, "No deal then."

Graves grumbled. "Fine, no deal! Good luck finding someone else who'll cough up this much for your crap! Out-right robbin' me…"

Graves turned to leave.

"Wait!" the black market merchant squealed. He looked tentatively at the cloth in his hands. "I also get…5 percent."

"2," Graves offered.

"4!"

"3! Take it or leave it," Graves gaze held strong with the diminutive merchant's glare.

"Very well," the Yordle folded, handing over the package of dice. "You better pay off well."

Graves fished the money out of his pocket, tossing it on the counter before sauntering away. _I hope so too, buddy_.

Graves hated how risky the whole situation was. Sure, he risked his hide plenty of times and gotten off well, but nothing to do with _political_ issues; In Noxus of all places, where the leaders were just as cutthroat and blood-thirsty as the street rats. Graves had no idea _why_ he followed all of Fate's crazy schemes.

_I know why_, he thought as he climbed the stairs in the more pleasant upper district. _They always miraculously work out_.

It was true: Twisted Fate had a knack for worming out of impossible situations. Since Graves had started traveling with the gypsy nearly three years ago, he had never gotten into more trouble—or gotten out of more. Even this past week, they had been privy to several murders and were still walking the streets, free as a bird. The encounter with Vuler's escort, the business with the golem; Graves had never been more scared, and he knew any normal man would be dead.

But Twisted Fate was no normal man. Graves had admitted to himself that the primary reason he returned was he had no idea how to function without Fate. Sure Graves called the shots and kept them safe, but Fate drove them onward to a higher purpose: Graves felt, deep-down, he'd never make something of himself without Fate by his size. Sure he could swindle the rest of his days and live just fine, but to what end? Graves wouldn't be satisfied unless he could settle, knowing he'd done _something_. And Fate—for all his stupidity—was a man intent on doing something.

_I'd never tell him though_, Graves nodded sagely, _that card shark's head would pop like a tick._

Graves strolled past the houses, which cast grim shadows over the already forbidding streets. Most Noxians were already in for the night; no sense in risking their necks with the vagrants that scampered about in the night.

As Graves continued down the lanes, he heard a light scuffle. He spun around: only empty road expanded behind him. He turned back, uneasily trudging forward. The pools of light created by the periodical torches felt like small refuges from the reaching shadows. His pace quickened.

The scuffled echoed again, and another sound. _A laugh?_ Graves halted his steps, listening intently.

"Hello, again," a voice whisper right behind his ear. Graves' spine went rigid. That familiar voice caused goose bumps to appear on his skin. She hovered close, and Graves could feel her warm breath. He didn't dare turn around. His tongue felt like lead.

She laughed again. "I wouldn't go to the Gala, if I were you."

Graves gulped. He willed his mouth to speak, "And why the hell not? Will you be there?"

She giggled. "You're funny. Good bye for now, Malcolm…"

He spun around, wielding his revolver steadily; his sights aimed at empty air. He cursed to himself and nervously jogged the remainder of the journey home.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Graves nervously shoved a note into Fate's hands that morning. He was munching on toast and sucking down coffee and cigarettes alike. Fate looked at the yellowish envelope, which had a crest he recognized as Noxus' insignia. "What's this?"

"Some delivery boy brought it," he snapped. Fate noticed he seemed more on-edge than usual, in stark contrast to the day before, when he seemed to let his worries wash away with the rain.

But today the shafts of sunlight invaded their retreat from danger, and while Noxus seemed strangely bright and cheerful, Graves' mood darkened. "Did you read it yet?" Fate asked.

"No, it's probably from that damned lady of your's," he tossed his arms up in disgust. "I have to make sure our stuff is in order. You deal with that." He stormed off.

Fate broke the seal and unfurled the parchment. Uniform cursive spanned the page, with another Noxian crest at the top. Fate read:

_Twisted Fate,_

_You are to wait for a carriage to be sent for you tonight. It will take you to the Grand Gala. Be sure to dress your best. See you there…_

_Your friend_

The note was not signed, but punctuated with a cherry lipstick kiss. His eyes scanned the post-script.

_P.S._

_I hope I didn't scare off your tough friend_

Fate wondered what she meant by that last part, but guessed that she suspected Graves was reluctant to commit to the job (he had pointed a gun at her, after all.) He took a gulp of coffee as he tucked the letter into his jacket. _It's gonna be a long day,_ Fate groaned to himself.

He found Graves in the cellar, draining what wine they had left. His eyes were bloodshot as he tipped his head back and drank deeply from a bottle of pinot noir. "C'mon, Malcolm, we need to be sober for tonight. This is _important_," Fate reprimanded.

Graves grunted as he let the empty bottle drop roughly beside him. "Important for _you_ maybe. What's important ta _me_ is seeing the light o' day tomorrow."

"Graves, the worst is behind us, all we gotta do is get Vuler to roll the right dice and then plant the regular dice somewhere incriminating." Fate spelled out the plan. "Then we can blow outta there before the heat even shows up!"

"What's even the point Fate?" Graves moaned as he reached for the shelf. "We're just gonna end up risking our necks agin and agin and agin…"

Fate looked sadly at his drunken partner. Had Graves been pondering the same thing? Could their swindling days be brought to an abrupt end? Was tonight the night?

Graves gazed up at Twisted Fate with glazed eyes. Fate put a hand on his shoulder. "Malcolm, whatever happens at the Gala, there's only one salty con-artist I trust to do the job right. We'll figure out what comes after."

"Ya think?"

"We always do," Fate stated simply.

Graves looked at the unopened bottle in his had briefly before stumbling onto his feet. "Ya gonna get me some coffee or do I have to do everything myself?"

"I got it," Fate scurried off to the kitchen, "Things will work out, I promise."

"Yeah, yeah," Graves grumbled as he pulled out a cigar.

* * *

Graves fumbled with his black bowtie for the third time, pulling it tight against his neck. He glanced down at the rest of his outfit in the mirror. "Do we really have to wear this?" Graves called to Twisted Fate in the other room.

"What's the matter, Malcolm? Can't stand lookin' pretty for one night?"

Graves just grumbled and went back to fussing with his tie. He ran a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back one more time. He didn't think a man should smell as flowery as he did right now. As he refilled his cigar case and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, he watched his reflection stare back at him. He was probably staring at a dead man as far as he was concerned. But Fate had reassured him in a way that no one else could; he may not have known it, but he was gambling on Graves, and a gamble from someone as insanely lucky as Fate may as well be a blessing.

Graves pondered again. Should he really be fooled into this situation, based on Fate's faith alone? _You've gotten in this deep. _She_ knows you're involved already._

Her. The voice returned to his head again. _Good bye for now, Malcolm…_ He shivered involuntarily. _She doesn't want me there…? _

He took a deep breath, staring intently at his reflection. Brown eyes glowered back at him, daring him to run. _Go on, head for the hills again,_ it said, _What will you make of yourself then?_

His contemplation was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Sirs, your carriage has arrived!" A foppish voice called.

"C'mon Malcolm," Fate said from the doorway, "Time to go."

They walked down the creaky steps to the front entrance. The evening light fell through the door as they opened it. In front of the gate they saw a magnificent black carriage being towed by two white stallions. A short man stood on the stoop, beckoning them to approach. "Welcome sirs. The Gala awaits."

"I hope this isn't a mistake," Graves murmured.

Fate beamed. "Let's find out."

* * *

The cold, marble steps of the entryway to Noxian Palace were filled with extravagantly dressed people. Women were draped in the finest silk and lace, with precious stones of all colors decorating their skin. The men, too, had donned sharp black suits, and many were in their finest military uniform, complete with shining medals. The sound of happy chatter billowed into the air.

One woman made her way through the crowd. While others exchanged glances and pleasantries with everyone they met, this woman ignored all others, smoothly picked through the crowd relatively unnoticed. She wanted a clear view of the long line of carriages, dropping off all the important nobility and officials. She noted the particularly important—and sometimes particularly pesky—people as they arrived. There was the DuCouteau girl, clad in a thin, crimson dress, clashing brilliantly with her red hair in its loose bun. The woman noted her movements, reminding herself to steer clear. She glanced back at the line of carriages.

A black carriage had rolled up, and out of it stepped two gentlemen she also recognized. She grinned. "I'll be damned," she whispered herself, "They showed up.

They stepped down in white and silver boots. They wore bright white tuxedos, accented with jet black bowties. The gruff one had his hair slicked perfectly back, his unruly beard had been trimmed. The other had a matching white hat, with an ace tucked into the hatband.

The woman carefully retreated into the crowd, rethinking her plan. _Things just got more interesting._


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"A lavish party" was an understatement for the amount of luxury packed into the ball room. The tall windows were hung with gold and led to a balcony overlooking the soft lights of the city of Noxus. Waiters flitted about, offering trays of delicacies and glasses of sparkling champagne. It took all of Fate's willpower to resist chugging the champagne like beer.

The pair was accosted by several officials, curious as to how two dapper men managed to get into the Gala. Fate politely told them they were special guests and was purposefully vague about whom; his eyes scanned the ball room, looking for the woman. His gaze instead fell upon the massive crystal chandelier that hung over their heads. The soft candle glow seemed to intensify as it hit the crystal droplets. Fate felt his heart skip a beat. _We made it to the Grand Gala!_

Graves seemed to satiate his want for alcohol by trying every bit of food he got his hands on. There was caviar, Mushroom patte from the Marshes of Kaladoun, tiny steamed squid fresh from the Guardian's Sea, peppers stuffed with Demacian goat cheese, an assortment of pastries from Bandle City and some bizarre bits of black meat on crackers that no one seemed to know the origin of.

"What is this?" Fate asked the waiter.

"That is Mire Catfish, sir, a beast that comes from the rivers of Zaun."

Fate wrinkled his nose at the foul smelling chunk. Graves shrugged and chomped into it.

"Tastes ok to me," he told Fate.

"No thanks," Fate said

As the night went on, the party around them became livelier, with various games being set up on tables around the room. The band awoke with a melodious waltz that coaxed couples onto the dance floor. Graves and Fate surveyed the red faces around them.

"Vuler must be somewhere," Graves said, his eyes casually studying the crowd along the walls.

Fate saw the black-and-gray-haired man stepping down the stairs in his military garb, with his rapier securely on his belt. He also had his wife in tow and behind her….

"I'll be right back, Malcolm. Vuler's talking to those Zaun diplomats," he nodded toward the conversing group before making a beeline for the stairs.

"_Fate!_ Where are you going?" Graves hissed. Fate ignored him and melded into the crowd.

He made it to the stairs and there she was: Umabel. She wore a conservative dark Noxian green dress, with half sleeves and gloves. The dress was very lacey in the front and a small train lined with frills spilled from behind. Her tiny hands were clasped in black gloves, and her raven hair was restrained under a feathered hat. Her mother—draped in furs next to her—looked on disapprovingly.

"Excuse me ma'am, miss," Fate nodded to each, before grabbing Umabel's hand for a kiss, "You both look lovely tonight. Miss Umabel," He caught her eye at last, his thoughts spilling quickly into words. "I apologize for offending you in any way, and I must tell you that I'd never want to imply in any way that I did not speak with you for the pure enjoyment of your company."

Umabel looked down at him for a moment, before giving a small nod. She seemed nervous in his presence, her hands wringing together roughly.

"If you'll excuse me, I have things to attend to," Fate tipped his hat. "Miss, ma'am."

He hurried off back into the boisterous crowd, only giving Umabel one last look.

"That boy is nothing but trouble," Lady Vuler remarked huffily. Her frog-like lips frowned.

"No…" Umabel said breathily, looking at the 4 of hearts she just realized was in her hand, "he's _magic._"

* * *

Graves stormed around numerous stuffy rich folk, grumbling to himself as he searched for Twisted Fate. _Why can't that damn gypsy stay put ever?_ He groaned to himself. He reached the windows which opened into a balcony and decided to get a drink.

Graves discovered a bar serving free alcohol and leaned up against the polished counter. "Gimme a whiskey," he grunted to the bartender. Graves snatched his drink and sipped gratefully before wandering back to the windows.

He gave the crowd another scan, quickly spotting Vuler milling around one of the poker tables, watching a game in progress. _Where is that gypsy…we need to act soon,_ Graves worried.

"Why hello again, sir," he spun and saw the woman Twisted Fate had received the invitations from. Her silvery blonde hair was up in an elaborate bun, and around her neck was a ruby necklace inscribed with runes. Her strapless dress hung tight around her thin waist before billowing out into a ball gown. The color of her dress reminded Graves of blood.

She smiled with heavily lidded eyes. "I'm glad to see I didn't scare you off. You're looking quite handsome tonight—"

"What are you playing at, huh?" Graves accused. _She_ didn't want him here and now she was flirting with him? "Why'd you tell me I shouldn't come?"

"My letter said nothing of the sort," she said smoothly. Despite how angry Graves was, he couldn't help but admire her beautiful face. He knew it only hid the ugly murderer beneath…

"Then what do you want from us _really_ huh? And give me the whole answer, no half-assed mysterious answer this time!"

Her expression grew stern. "Keep your voice down," she hissed. She searched around before leaning in close. "I've invited you as my _special guests_ for just the reason I've explained. As for why—" her coy smile returned, "Senator Vuler is hiding information that I wish to know. If he were to be put in a…_compromising_ situation, I could easily charm him into telling me _everything_."

Graves lowered his voice. "And the murders?"

"Well, we'll find out, won't we? Vuler, after-all, stands to gain much from foreign talks going…poorly, shall we say?" Her eyes wandered as she said this, looking over the heads of the crowd. "Now, I must rejoin my sister—ah, there she is—I heard she gave you a bit of trouble on the way in? I hope you still found you accommodations fitting?" Graves stared back blankly. "If you'll excuse me, have a good evening."

He watched confusedly as she floated through the crowd towards a familiar woman—red hair, crimson red dress, and knives strapped all down her slightly exposed leg…

"Katarina!" Graves murmured to himself. "Wait!" he called to the blonde, "What's your name, er, Miss?"

"Oh, call me Cassiopeia, dear," she cooed, and waltzed to her sister's side across the room.

Graves' mind was spinning. _A DuCouteau…she's the _other_ Miss DuCouteau, but she's not an assassin, like her sister…_ Graves sorted out all the details, _Or I would have heard of her. _

Graves' head whipped around. "I have to find Fate!" he declared. He delved back into the mass of people.

* * *

Fate wandered slowly through the gambling tables towards the dance floor; Vuler was at a table on the other side, and he wanted to be sure to catch him before he began gambling in earnest. Getting to the table proved challenging, however, with all the intoxicated guests floating about. They chuckled and shoved in their conversation groups, some swords being drawn though no one thought anything of it. Fate broke free onto the dance floor, where many of the younger guests had formed a pair and were swaying gently to the music.

"You don't appear to have a partner," a voice stated; the sound reverberated in his ears and sent chills up his spine.

A lady slid into view—he was sure she wasn't there before—and blocked his path. Her purple dress stood out among the reds, greens and blacks, and its straps wrapped around her attractive neck. Her brunette hair flowed to her shoulders with a gentle wave, and a slit in her dress revealed sparkling high heel shoes.

"What's your story, stranger?" she smiled.

Fate tipped his hat impatiently. "Twisted Fate's the name, ma'am."

This only seemed to draw her closer, "Will you dance with me Twisted Fate?"

Something about her pulled him in: she was attractive, sure, but it was more than that. It felt like something was physically pushing them closer. Fate nodded and took her hand. Her hand grasped his shoulder as he felt her bony waist.

"Twisted Fate, hm?" her voice chilled him again, "Quite the name you have there, Mr. Fate….your friends must call you something…?"

Fate was suddenly lost in her glowing eyes as they connected with his. "Er…just Fate."

"Hmm, an awfully _transcendental_ name for someone presumably a mere humble man."

"I s'pose so," Fate replied, waltzing them slowly around, "What would you have me called?"

"How about…TF? Seems average enough."

Fate chuckled. "Alright then, TF it is. But only you're allowed to call me that."

She smiled again: Fate was pulled in closer. "So tell me, does the man called Fate believe in coincidences?"

"If you mean Lady Luck, I trust her quite a bit."

"Putting your life in the hands of a woman?" she said coyly.

He tore his gaze from her's. "Sure, she's fickle," Fate started slowly, "like any lady, really—may leave ya for dead—but she'll reward those gentlemen kind enough to her."

A finger tilted his head back in her direction. Their faces were mere inches away. "Sounds like you might already be taken."

"Me and Lady Luck? Naw, she's a slippery one. We just know each other real well. One day I'll find someone like her: a real woman."

"Would she be as…elusive?

Fate thought carefully. "Well…she'd be independent. But elusive?" Fate smirked. "I'd be able to find her when I needed her."

"But a woman would merely be a shadow of the true Lady," the woman pointed out, "wouldn't she? Would you be satisfied with nothing but a shadow, Mr. Fate?"

"Even a glimmer of Lady Luck would be more than enough for me."

They danced in silence for a time, the woman finally releasing Fate from her eerie gaze. "Very good then, Mr. Fate. I must attend to some….matters. It was….a _pleasure_ speaking with you." She broke their contact.

Fate scanned the crowd quickly. "Please, the pleasure was all mine, Ms—" His eyes fell upon empty air. The woman had vanished.

Fate reached up to touch the ace in his hat. "I didn't even get your name, Shadow of Lady Luck."


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

When Fate and Graves finally reunited by the bar, Fate was still in a daze; Graves grabbed him roughly by his collar and pulled him aside.

"Damnit Fate where have you been? I've got some bad news," Graves told him, "I met _her_. That lady who gave us the invitations? Get this: Her name is Cassiopeia DuCouteau, she's _Katarina's sister_. There's no way she could be our assassin friend."

Fate didn't acknowledge him. His golden eyes were still misty from his encounter with the woman.

"Didja hear me Fate? That woman's not the killer. She wants to put Vuler in a bad way…she thinks _he's_ the one who hired the assassin and killed all those folks, and she's gonna weasel the info outta him. That killer," Graves gulped, "might be settin' their sights _on us_."

Fate snapped from his stupor. "What? Cassiopeia…" He looked around, and sure enough, saw Katarina standing beside a familiar woman with silver blonde hair. "Why would they want us?"

"Vuler can't get framed if we aren't there to do it," Graves explained, "What do we do now?"

"We can't run," Fate ruled out, "Let's just get the job done, if we give him the dice and then leave, we can find someplace to hide, and hope _Miss DuCouteau_ can find us and give us our due payment."

"This is bad Fate…" Graves sputtered, "This is _very, very_ _bad._"

"I know…" Fate said calmly. "The only way we're gettin' out of this though, is stayin' calm. C'mon."

The pair crossed the ball room to the excited poker table Senator Vuler was seated at. Red-faced from drink, Vuler had apparently had little luck because he hollered frustrated at the others.

"Senator Vuler," Fate greeted, "Good to see ya."

He fumbled with his monocle angrily. "Oh, it's you two. Pleasure. Sorry, haven't the time, I'm having a terrible time with this poker…"

"Losing out?" Fate assumed.

Vuler nodded reluctantly.

"Poker is a dangerous game, Senator. Are you into danger?"

"Well, I _did_ lead an elite core of fighters back in my day…"

"But you seem like a man who wouldn't take any risks unless he _had_ to," Fate clarified. "What you oughta play is craps."

"I beg pardon?"

Graves picked up a box of dice on a table nearby. He shot Fate a meaningful look before offering the box to Vuler.

"Y'see Senator, craps is a dice game. Pays out far better'n poker," Fate said. He explained the rules to Vuler briefly, before pushing him to the table nearby.

"Hm…I see, I see…" he looked at the box of dice he now held. "Well, then I'll give it a go. Fellows! Come have a look at this game, eh?" He beckoned to the men at the poker table. "Let's see Fenrick beat me this time," he mumbled to himself.

Graves leaned in to whisper to Fate. "Got 'em." He briefly showed the two dice wedged between his thick fingers.

"Thought you might have fat-fingered it," Fate replied. Graves merely growled.

As the men set up their game, Fate crept behind Vuler to advise him. "I'd take those two die there," he whispered, "See how the others are notched up? Yeah, the smooth ones're lucky. Be sure to bet a Pass Line if you're using those, and _only_ those."

Vuler waggled his head in agreement, picking the two dice to roll. Fate strolled away, rejoining Graves, who quietly slipped the dice into his hand. "Make it quick," Graves murmured.

Fate circled the table one last time, hovering over Vuler, who leaned low as he rolled his dice across the table. Cheers erupted as he hit his passing number on the second roll, and Vuler rose from his seat, Fate slipped the dice into his pants pocket.

Fate sauntered back to Graves as steadily as he could. Graves' face was a stone mask, but Fate was sure underneath he was as jittery as a mosquito.

"Let's go," Fate said. Graves sighed in relief as they headed towards the exit.

Already, a mere ten minutes later, they heard rumbles of discontent. A man with thick jowls sputtered. "Vuler, how are you winning every roll? I've gambled my winnings away already!"

"Oh hush, Fenrick, I've finally found something you can't win at," Vuler sneered.

"I think you're cheating," another man retorted.

"Nonsense, I'm using the house dice aren't I?"

Graves crashed into a lady; the two were tripping over their feet. They recognized the familiar discontent of gamblers realizing they've been swindled. Only this time, most of the people in this room were hardened warriors. Fate felt sweat drip from under his hat. The exit was in sight.

"Look I was told by those two fellows I'd have more luck at this game…"

Suddenly Fate felt heads turn, eyes now on him and Graves. A gruff hand seized his collar and steered him back towards the table. Despite Fate's dread, he kept his face as level as possible. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Graves grinding his teeth in a similar effort.

"What's the big idea?" Graves demanded. "Can't a fella enjoy the Gala in peace—"

The color from Graves face drained as the large fellow who had dragged them back delved into Graves pocket and found…two dice, with the distinct nick marks of the house dice.

"Well, well," Fenrick said, "Seems they were _loaded dice_."

"Where'd those come from?" Graves sputtered. Fate returned his confused look. He had certainly slipped those into Vuler's pocket. Who had returned them?

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Senator Vuler was upon them, his rage evident on his face. "You do realize how serious this is? There is no place for such scum! We are all respectable men, and you have insulted the hospitality of the family who invited you and the hospitality of Noxus!"

People were pushing into the area, craning their necks to see the source of the commotion. Among them, Cassiopeia—who Fate knew couldn't stand up for them for fear of showing her hand—gazed with an expressionless face. Many men had their hands on their weapons, glaring menacingly at the con-artists. Among the uproar, Fate could only think to grasp onto the cards in his jacket. Vuler worked his hands into fists and reached for his rapier.

"Father stop!" Umabel crashed through the crowd and onto the scene. "Father, they're just con-artists!" Fate cringed at her flippant tone. "They aren't worth it. They'll get their due punishment. You can't insult the Grand General by spilling blood in his ball room!"

Vuler fought against her grasp, but eventually allowed himself to be dragged back. "Yes, yes…I need to cool down. I'll…need a break." He wandered back up the stairs as the crowd still bustled around the scene. Umabel stared blankly at her father's retreating figure.

"Fate," Graves hissed. "Be ready to _run_."

Fate wasn't sure what Graves had in mind, but nodded all the same.

"I've had it," Fenrick announced. He pulled out a large broad sword. "If Vuler won't get the job done, I will."

He raised his sword loosely and as he did, Graves elbowed his captor in the ribs and grappled with the angry assailant, managing to bring the force of his sword onto a rope tied on the wall nearby—Fate hadn't noticed it before. The rope snapped, and it was in an instant Twisted Fate realized what had happened. He bolted, sticking to the walls as the magnificent chandelier sailed into the marble floors. Pure chaos exploded as people rushed out of the way and a shower of sparkling crystal exploded in the center of the ball room. Violins screeched as the band ceased, being knocked flat by panicking guests. Trays of hors d'oeuvres were flung into the air, joining the crystal.

"C'mon, Fate, let's scram," the two used the commotion to rush away towards the exit. Fate halted, grabbing Graves.

"This way!" he shouted, steering them up the stairs.

"Are you mad? The exit is that way!"

"I'm figuring out this mystery once and for all."

Graves groaned but ran after regardless.

The two rushed up the stairs, encountering no one as they passed several closed doors. Fate spotted one nearby door that was slightly ajar.

"There!" he cried, turning towards the open door. He burst in just in time to see a startling scene.

Vuler stood rigid, facing a woman in an elegant purple dress; it was none other than the woman Fate had danced with, only her glowing eyes were now filled with a frightening light Fate had only seen a few times—blood-lust.

"Stay back," Vuler hissed. His voice was strangely uneven as he drew his sword.

"Don't make this difficult," the woman seethed, "There's only one way this can turn out."

Vuler's eyes darted behind her, falling upon Fate and Graves, standing frozen in the doorway. The woman turned for only a moment, her eyes also finding the two. That moment was enough: Vuler whipped his rapier, lashing out and causing a stream of blood to erupt.

The woman screeched an unearthly scream. Vuler drew back to attack again, but this time Fate reacted. His hands flew to his jacket and he did the only thing her knew how: play a card. The card flew from his hand, stinging Vuler's rapier hand and causing him to drop his weapon. The woman recovered, and Fate's eyes widened as she shot out long, blood-colored spikes, piercing Vuler in the neck, chest and stomach. The man could only gurgle as he fell limply to the floor.

Graves was still rooted to the spot. Fate began approaching the woman, who now eyed them warily. She clutched her side, which was streaming blood from her fresh wound, her blood mixing with the pooling blood of the dead Senator.

Fate made to speak, but heard thundering footsteps behind him. The woman dashed for the window, bursting out without another word.

"Hey, wait!" Fate called after, but once again he ran to the window and saw nothing but the city lights below.

The crowd barreled into the room, suddenly still when they came upon the grisly scene. They regarded Fate and Graves, then their eyes fell upon the body. A scream sounded.

"Murderers!"

"No!" Graves stammered. "It wasn't us, we swear!"

"Who was it then huh? Did Senator Vuler just drop dead of his own accord?" Fenrick's jowls wobbled as he waved his sword about.

"These two? Murder?" a voice scoffed. Katarina strolled in from behind the group. She glanced at Fate, Graves and then Vuler as if it were all perfectly normal. "You already searched them didn't you? These two don't carry around shit for weapons. I doubt they could have done this." She indicated the wounds. "They probably can't even fight worth a damn. And against Vuler? He's no pushover."

Fate could have kissed Katarina. Despite her condescending tone, she had vouched for them without even knowing it. Her word was highly valued, and she essentially saved Twisted Fate and Graves' lives.

Fenrick hesitated. "Well, what happened then?"

"We d-don't know," Fate stammered. He found it difficult to feign fear in his voice. "We're just as confused as you are. We were running, trying to g-get away….and then we walked in here…and saw this."

Graves stayed silent, but wore an expression one might interpret as worry. It seemed about accurate.

"Well the assassin couldn't have gotten far," Fenrick said, leading the men on another charge through the Palace. Katarina studied the body for a moment before following suit.

Graves and Twisted Fate were left alone with Vuler's corpse.

"I can't believe it," Graves said, "Did we just get out of this? Alive?"

"We're not out of this yet," Fate responded, peering out the window.

"What? Let's get out of here before they decide to come back!"

"I've got to find her, Malcolm," Fate pleaded.

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"Easy," he said, indicating the light blood drops leading to the window. "She left us a trail this time."

* * *

**We're on the home stretch! Stay tuned! Also feedback welcome as usual. :)**


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Darting around the dark streets of Noxus was the last thing Fate wanted to do, but the blood trail proved easy to follow once they reached the rooftops of the expensive houses below. It seems she had scaled an ivy wall on one of the houses, and continued down the road until coming upon a house with a snake symbol on the door.

"Well I'll be damned," Graves murmured as they approached the house, "It's like she _wants _us to find her."

The trail had grown faint but was distinctive enough that they were certain she had entered the house. Fate slowly creaked the door open on their empty house. The light was dim until Graves lit some candles.

"Alright come on out," Fate called after a moment to the empty house. "We don't wanna hurt you, we just wanna talk. I think you owe us that much. No more hiding now."

"Who's hiding?" she said smoothly, her eerie voice reaching their ears. Graves jumped as he realized she was near him, leaning against the bar.

Her purple dress was tattered and caked with dry blood, but something else was distinctly different about her. She no longer had pale skin, but blue skin, distinct against the mahogany of the counter. Her brunette hair was now purple, swept upwards with only two strands dangling, framing her face. She still had those glowing eyes, which were alit as she stared at Twisted Fate and Graves.

"Well, well, we meet at last," Fate stated, "Officially, that is."

"Good to see you, Malcolm, TF," she greeted. Graves could only stammer while Fate tipped his hat.

"Malcolm, get her a wet towel," Fate ordered.

"Huh?"

"Go on, the lady needs to clean up."

Graves didn't remove his eyes from the blue woman as he quickly ascended the stairs. Fate took a seat on a nearby couch, drinking in her appearance. She was still very pretty, and with her dress in tatters, he could now see her striking, long legs. Besides that, any man would be unnerved by her appearance, her predator-like stare locking them in. Fate felt only curiosity however.

"So this is the real you," he stated.

She smiled, revealing pointed teeth. A laugh tinkled out of her.

Graves returned with some wet towels, handing them to the woman while avoiding her gaze. She took the towels hesitantly and delicately dabbed at her injured side.

"What should we call you Ms…?"

"Evelynn," she told them, "Just Evelynn."

"Evelynn," Fate said breathily. "Evelynn, why did you kill Vuler? Don't you work for him?"

"I did. I guess I don't anymore," she said simply.

"Well…why then?"

She shrugged. "I get paid to kill people. I don't ask why. Though usually it's pretty easy to figure out."

"So someone paid you to kill Vuler?" Fate clarified.

"Yes."

"And he had been paying you to kill others? Vilhellos? Clearborne? The Freljord barbarians?"

Fate thought he saw her face twist in pain, but only for a brief second. She ceased her dabbing. "All me," she admitted. "Vuler stands to gain if foreign relations go poorly—he wants the Institute to fall, and Noxus to lapse into war again. The Demacian and Freljord ambassadors—in fact, Lady Vilhellos had already asked me to kill her husband, as she wanted control of her city—but she had good relations with Bilgewater, being an from an old sailor family, and her death looked bad to those Bilgerats."

Graves, who had been flinching at every other word from Evelynn's purple lips, growled quietly. This only caused Evelynn to laugh again.

"Oh, and the Vilhellos maid…that was just for fun," she winked at Graves as she said this, no doubt amused by Graves' fear.

"What about the guard in that village?" Fate suddenly remembered the gruesome scene, with the bloody warning.

"Not Vuler," she said, she suddenly gripped the side of the bar. "I believe it was a… _Fenrick?_ It was meant to serve as a warning."

Fate approached her. "You're hurt, here have a seat—" She recoiled abruptly from his offering hand. Fate realized that she was just sweet-talking and stalling for time until she could make her exit—he saw her gaze turn to that of a cornered animal for a split second. He smirked. "Your poker face is pretty good darling, but there's no need around us."

"Is that why your friend is holding a gun?" she spat.

Fate glanced at Graves, who sheepishly withdrew the revolver from his sleeve. "Malcolm," Fate said calmly, holding out his hand. "I'll take care of it."

Graves growled uncomfortably, but handed over the gun. Fate put it on the coffee table in plain view before returning to Evelynn. "Now then, have a seat please?"

Her eyes regarded him, but eventually she crept over to the couch, almost silently despite her large heels. Fate seated himself in an armchair across from her.

"You don't have to worry none," Fate reassured.

"I know your scheme. You can't con me," she retorted. "You're stalling for time before your little Noxian friends get here. I know where I stand with you…I used you and now I'm your redemption from your little screw-up."

Graves scoffed. "I wish, sweetheart."

Fate also spoke. "We split once they ran looking for you. We didn't even tell 'em which way you had gone, not that they'd believe us. You're still in the Palace for all they know."

Evelynn's face had turned cold, which bothered Fate for some reason. Graves swallowed hard, still standing by the wall cautiously.

Graves finally addressed her. "So I take it you planted the dice back on me?"

Her eyes tilted in his direction. "Yes."

Graves fiddled with his cufflinks. "Not bad, not bad…"

Fate smirked again. "She's a regular con-artist."

The three of them jumped as they heard a knock at the door. They stared at the door, motionless. The knock persisted.

Fate turned to Evelynn. "You better hide yourself."

She nodded, and rose slowly, creeping up stairs.

Graves cracked the door open. Fate read his surprised expression, as he let in the figure in the doorway.

Still in her dark green dress, Umabel floated into the entry way. Fate leapt up from his chair to greet her.

"Umabel, how…?"

"I knew you were staying here," she explained simply. "I just came to apologize."

"What about the guards? They could be with you!" Graves accused. He impulsively reached for his gun; his face fell when it didn't reach his grasp.

Umabel had a solemn expression as she shook her head. "They're still searching the Palace grounds for the assassin. It'll be hours before they give up, and I made certain I wasn't followed." She wrung her hands together as she launched into apology. "I didn't mean for you to get involved, it's just…it just happened. But please… I'll lead them off of your trail. Here," she reached into her bosom and pulled out two papers. "I was saving these, but I think you deserve them. I know you were there to pull a job for someone, and I interfered."

"Umabel," Fate started. He gazed at the papers she handed: papers of diplomatic immunity. "You don't owe us anything. We got caught and that's on us." He felt Graves' glare on him, but remained looking at Umabel.

She shook her head again, her hat wobbling precariously. Just then, Graves jumped, startled by the woman who materialized beside him. Evelynn looked at Umabel, not with surprise like Fate expected, but with anticipation. Umabel extracted a large sack from her dress, clinking with the sound of coin.

"Here, the amount we agreed upon," Umabel said, handing the bag to Evelynn. Evelynn quickly scanned its contents before nodding.

"I hope everything was satisfactory?"

Umabel gave an imperceptible nod. Evelynn apparently took that as a signal to return to lounging on the couch, her long legs crossed.

"Wait, _you_ paid her to kill Vuler?" Grave guessed, shaking his head incredulously. "_Your father?_"

"That boy guard who was killed…that was my brother," Umabel explained. "My father had become weak, only using paid assassins in order to get his way, instead of coming outright and challenging opponents. I hated to do it…but Noxus deserves better leaders and ambassadors. Ones that represent the power and glory of Noxus, not the money." She shook her head, "After the death of my brother, my father had become afraid to even do his own job properly."

"Apparently his fear was justified," Graves mumbled.

Twisted Fate stared. "I don't understand, why would you do that to your own father?"

"Mr. Fate, I will tell you a true story I once heard. There was a soldier, he was poor and unknown. But one day, during battle, his superior officer told his men to retreat. The soldier was outraged that any son of Noxus would run from a battle, so he beheaded his superior officer and lead the group to victory," she seemed inspired by this gruesome tale, her eyes slightly glazed as she spoke. "_That_ is the way of Noxus. To not allow the weak to lead, only the most powerful are truly worthy. My father had forgotten that long ago…he had forgotten how to stand and fight. Instead he hid, shamefully…"

Fate and Graves could only stare at the woman. If she was crazy enough to have her father killed, they were uncertain if they wanted her around anymore. Then again, her assassin was apparently only a few feet away, so neither of the pair wanted to force Umabel to leave either.

"I must be going," Umabel announced. She straightened her gloves as she turned around. "I won't tell them of your location. _Any_ of you. I suggest you leave town for a while before testing out those papers. Farewell."

She stepped through the door and down the walk as Graves slowly closed the door.

"Well, I don't know 'bout you Fate, but I'm going to bed and I'm leaving first thing in the morning. I'm not staying in this backwards town any longer than I have to."

Fate studied the document in his hand. "At least we got the papers. Don't think Miss DuCouteau would've given 'em to us on account of Vuler being dead and all."

"Good," Graves said, "Don't have to talk to that lady ever again. That damn blonde has eyes like a snake…" he paused on his way up the stairs, suddenly remember the purple-haired assassin on their couch. He exchanged a glance with Fate.

"You're welcome to stay here and recover," Fate told her. Graves groaned, but continued his climb to bed.

Evelynn's sly smile returned. "That's rather kind of you."

"And if you ever need anything," Fate offered his hand, but as Evelynn reached for it, he flipped a card out. "Gimme a holler."

She laughed lightly as she took the queen of hearts from his hand.

Fate sauntered up the stairs, looking back several times the strange beauty that held his card in her delicate hands. He wasn't sure what to make of her, but he was sure he wanted to know more. He yawned as he walked the rest of the hall to his room.

Evelynn remained motionless, studying the playing card in her hand. _What a fool,_ she thought to herself _He must be lucky, because there's no way an idiot like him would survive being a trouble maker_. She smiled as she leaned back, remembering their dance. _I suppose I don't _have _to kill him…yet._

* * *

Fate rose early the next morning, mostly because Graves was hollering his head off at the crack of dawn.

"Where the hell is she? I don't want her sneakin' up on me. C'mon Fate, up and at 'em. Time to go," he shouted into Fate's room.

Twisted Fate groaned but rolled out of bed and dressed himself, ambling down the stairs. He gratefully poured himself some coffee, half-wishing they had something other than wine to drink.

"She's gone!" Graves yelled, rushing into the room from the cellar. "I can't find her nowhere. She's plumb disappeared!"

Fate surveyed the room. "She might be here. Just can't see her…" Fate trailed off as he noticed a playing card on the coffee table. He picked it up, seeing it was his queen of hearts. There was a message scrawled on the face:

_TF,_

_Don't chase the shadow of Lady Luck_

_~E_

"What is it Fate?" Graves looked on with concern.

Fate sighed. "She's gone."

The pair stood silently for a while; Graves kept opening his mouth as if to say something, only to close it again, looking downtrodden.

Fate wasn't sure what could be said. The mystery was all wrapped up, just like he wanted, but he still felt empty. They had the reward they were expecting. What had he _really_ hoped to gain from all this?

"We…" Graves started, "We better get going."

Fate just gazed at the card in his hand.

"Need to leave as soon as possible," Graves continued. "Since we didn't gamble any money, we've got plenty for a trip to pretty much anywhere…"

Fate nodded, placing the card into his jacket pocket. "Ok let's go."

The pair packed up in relative silence, ready in a mere half hour, loading their horse up with what few possessions they still had and cantering out of Noxus.

"Where to?" Graves asked.

Fate just gazed at the city as it shrank behind them. He rubbed the queen in his pocket.

Graves bit his lip, letting the silence hang for a time. "I heard there was a woman in Ionia. Seducing men and killin' 'em. Some say she _steals souls_. Get this: they say she's got a fox tail."

Fate smirked. "Might be worth checking out."

Graves sighed. "Ionia it is then. Are you ever gonna give me a break?"

"Never."

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this story! I have one more epilogue bit I'll put out shortly (like later on the day I am posting this) so watch out for that. I really had a lot of fun writing this-Graves and Twisted Fate are characters that are different than I'm used to writing, and they were just a joy to lead through adventures. Please, I really want to improve on my writing and would love any reviews and tips you have to offer, even if it's just a simple "it's great!" or "Improve on [blank]." I read every bit of feedback I get and take it to heart when I write, so any and all opinions about my work are appreciate. Thank you again for reading _Shadows of Lady Luck_**

**Bonus!: What was the story Umabel was talking about? Did anyone recognize it?**


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Evelynn trekked through the deep snow banks of the frozen tundra. Though the cold couldn't kill her, she was extremely uncomfortable walking against the chill wind. Up ahead she could just barely make out the tree line through the raging blizzard around her. She paused for a moment, looking back from where she came.

Her prints lead behind her for a few feet, then became mostly covered as they disappeared into the wall of hazy white. _There's no way that fool could be following me still,_ Evelynn thought to herself. She pressed on.

The bark of the trees was as frozen as the ground Evelynn walked on. The sparse shrubs were completely covered in a cold blanket of white. The blizzard was calming down as Evelynn strolled through the wood.

She hesitated, looking back at the open tundra she had just traversed. No one showed up on the horizon, like she expected. _Good, he's gone_.

She stood perfectly still, a mere statue in the motionless wood. Her glowing eyes still scanned the horizon. _He'll be fine. He always gets out of his predicaments._ Something kept her from continuing—A funny buzzing sensation in her head. She wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant feeling. She headed back into the empty tundra.

Twenty minutes later, Evelynn trudged through yet another snow bank. This one grunted however. She paused, crouching at the bank and brushing away the snow. She spotted the familiar Ace of spades tucked into a hatband. _Of course. Lucky bastard._

Hours later, Evelynn had a fire roaring, propping up the card shark near the mantle. She hastily covered the rotting corpse of the old man she had killed that morning with a ratty sheet. She found another wool blanket (one not coated in blood) and wrapped it around Twisted Fate's unconscious form. Satisfied that he would survive, she stood up and turned towards the door.

"Came back for me, huh?" a voice croaked. It was Fate, though he was still slumped against the wall.

Evelynn rolled her eyes, continuing towards the door. Suddenly a glowing red card imbedded itself in the wood of the door. Evelynn recoiled, looking at the playing card; it was a queen of hearts, with familiar hand writing scrawled on the face of the card. Evelynn yanked the card out, gazing at it.

"So you didn't take my advice," Evelynn stated.

"Look at the back."

She flipped it over, seeing another message:

_Eve_

_A man has to try_

_~T.F._

Evelynn rolled her eyes. "You aren't going to stop are you?"

The trembling man shook his head.

"Fine," she barked, "You get one date to impress me."

"Meet in f-front of the Institute?" he managed.

"It's a date."

Fate grinned, struggling up onto his feet before glowing in a beam of light. "See ya then," he said. In an instant, he disappeared, leaving Evelynn alone in the room once again.

She shook her head. "What have I gotten myself into?" she asked the old man. He just stared back lifelessly. "Oh you're right," she said with a smile, "I can still kill him if I need to. It might be fun for a while…"

* * *

**Sneak Preview for my next WIP!:**

**For years she had waited patiently, using the Frostguard as her guise. Though it was long ago, Lissandra remembered well her sisters' foolish actions...and oh, how _they_ reminded her of her sisters.**

**...Battle for Freljord! Coming Soon!**


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